Come from Hell
by hyndara71
Summary: Part 2/2 While Christian tries to help Nick and Adalind flee from Eric, Sean Renard makes a shocking discovery. Hank accused of murder and in costudy, needs the help from the GrimmGang. And Juliette starts the journey of her life to learn to understand what happened to her. AU, Violence, Whump
1. The Awakening

**Disclaimer:** _Grimm_ is the property of NBC, Universal, GKProductions, Hazy Mills Production and a lot of others. I don't own anything, beside the idea.

**A/N:** 1. It's been a while and for me personally a struggle. But I stand for my given word. Here we go, the second part of the "Hell"-series starts right now. I hope you will enjoy it :). And, just to make this sure, with this part the story will end, no cliffhanger in the last chapter.

2. Thanks again a lot to _MerlynPyndragon_ for her help betaing also this fanfiction. Gal, you rock!

3. And I will give you a warning! This time there will be a fair amount of violence in the story!

This fanfic I dedicate to my father, who's birthday would be today. I miss you, Dad!

* * *

**Two Hours earlier:**

"Juliette, would you mind speaking with me in private?" Sean Renard asked.

Juliette Silverton looked at him, then at Monroe, still so sad and worried, holding Rosalee's hand. Wu on his lonesome watch near the door, trying to avoid looking into the face of the zombiefied Fuchsbau.

What could she do? They had to wait until Rosalee woke up and started her rampage before they could cure her. And the treatment was already ready and awaiting to do its job in the huge needled syringe.

She nodded and followed Sean out of the back room, into the closed shop front.

"What's up?" she asked.

Sean had turned his back on her. Holding his cellphone to his ear, he listened and then said, "You can ask herself, she's with me." With that he turned around and gave his iPhone to Juliette.

She took it, baffled, but held it to her ear. "This is Juliette Silverton. To whom am I speaking?"

"This is a friend of Sean Renard's," a whispering voice answered. "I am looking for the Grimm. I believe he's your fiance?"

Juliette's heart missed a beat. She turned around, feeling her cheeks redden. "Do you know something about Nick?" she asked hastily. "Do you know where he is?"

"Not precisely no," the voice told her. "But he's here. I am the one who discovered his jacket. And I doubt he would have left it behind."

Juliette smiled. The windbreaker she gave to Nick as an early birthday present. Luckily she gave it to him so early, otherwise it would be another heartbreaking memory she would have to fight opening the closet ...

"Listen, I think I know where the Grimm is," the voice told her. "Sean told me something about your condition. Is it true? And ... am I allowed to tell it to your fiance? It could help him."

"I already gave my permission and yes, it is true. I carry Nick's child. Do you need to know more?"

A sigh, then the caller took a deep breath. "The prince is up to something. Maybe he found out about your pregnancy, I'm not sure. But he definitely contacted the Cracher-Mortal again. I assume, this time he may come for you. Be careful and always be in company. I think I don't have to tell you how dangerous the Baron is."

It was like a door to her soul opened by listening to his words. A deep and dark hate slowly swelled inside her.

So, this time they wanted to come for her? They would have to pay a high price to get her.

"I'll be careful," she said.

"I've got to go now. Tell Sean that I'll let him know as soon as I find out."

"Your help is much appreciated," Juliette said and heard a click right before the connection died.

Her eyes were burning and she felt relieved and angry at the same time.

Nick was alive but a captive, and now, maybe because he didn't cooperate the way this Royal wanted, they wanted to come for her? The dark hatred inside her festered ...

"Juliette?" Sean asked with a soft voice.

She took another deep breath and turned around, straightening herself. "I'm okay." Her eyes fell on the gun Sean had in his hand now. She lifted her eyebrows. "What's that for?"

Sean stepped closer, holding the gun by the barrel and offering it to her. "I want you to carry a weapon from now on," he said. "Juliette, this is important. If Eric tries to get you ..."

"The last time I had a gun in my hands I shot you out of my house," Juliette said, giving him the cellphone back.

"Nick taught you well." Sean's voice was warm now. "Please, take it."

She didn't like guns. But he was right, she needed a weapon.

Juliette looked at the counter of the shop. There laid a huge kitchen knife she probably left after she mixed the treatment for Rosalee and looked here for some ingredients. She hesitated a second, then grabbed the knife and showed it to Sean. "I fear this is more of a weapon for me," she said. Opening her bag she put the knife into it.

Sean frowned. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Juliette nodded. The cold hatred inside her was bubbling. "I am. And now we should figure out who shall take the shifts to watch over Rosalee," she decided.

* * *

**One hour earlier:**

Christian peeked around the corner of the hallway, watching the two Severin cousins walking down it. With another look he made sure there was no surveillance anywhere near before he followed themhesitately.

When he saw them down in the kitchen locking the small freezer and leaving, he decided it was time to find out what they were hiding. And his suspicion about the renovated tower was right: the Severins went directly to the entrance of it. Taking the small staircase inside it, they moved up to one of the higher levels before leaving the stairs.

Thanks, Magda, Christian thought. As quiet as possible he followed the cousins, always ready to jump into the next doorstep to hide as best as he could. And he didn't have to follow much longer. The cousins stopped at one of the closed doors.

Christian found another cell nearby unlocked and slipped inside. There was a vile odor hanging about but it was the best hideout he could find right now. He put his ear against the door and listened very carefully.

There was a male voice he didn't know, dark and warm and very plain. "I need to see the Prince," this voice said.

Christian frowned. He'd never heard the Grimm speak. All he had was a blurry picture of him, which Sean had sent him right after said Grimm went missing. So he couldn't make out if this was the person he had searched for two months now or not.

"The prince is probably busy," drawled one of the cousins in a heavy accent.

"I NEED to talk to him. NOW!" the unfamiliar voice said in a sharp tone.

Christian bit his lips. Silently he wished the cousins would leave now so he could find out who was imprisoned here. The smell in the cell he was in was nearly overwhelming.

Dear God, was something rotting in here?

Christian risked a look around but didn't spot anything, only a little scratch mark on one of the walls. High, small windows, a pallet against one side. But underneath the odor he could sense something else, another smell. Sharp and all too familiar with two Grimm in the castle: the smell of another Grimm.

A third Grimm here? His feeling grew that he had finally found who he was looking for.

"_Geh und hol ihn,_" he heard one of the cousins say.

"_Warum ich? Du kannst ihn ebensogut holen gehen. Ich war das letzte Mal da unten,"_ said the other Grimm.

Christian listened and hoped for a second that both would leave. But finally, after an argument about who would do more and who would be too lazy to do his work correctly, the bigger of them, Franz, left, while the other stood waiting at the cell.

Christian sighed softly

So close and yet so far away ...

* * *

**Fifteen minutes earlier:**

Eric Renard was about to leave the castle when there was a knock at the door. He looked up, frowning, and thought for a moment. This was not the right time to disturb him. He wanted to drive to a dinner he was invited to by Adalind Schade. She had told him she had big news and a surprise for him. Well, hopefully she didn't want to tell him he was the father of her unborn child because he could sense it wasn't his. On the other hand she could have a real surprise for him. His private secretary, Christian, had suggested she may have something really surprising for him. Christian was always well informed all the time, and, although he would never say that aloud, he trusted the little man. That half-Maushertz knew what was good for him.

On the other hand, there still was the sick Grimm in one of the cells. If the venom didn't kick in the right way, it could kill Nick Burkhardt. Last time Eric had checked on his prisoner the Grimm seemed slowly to regenerate, but was still weak. So ...

No, this could be important!

"Come in!" he ordered.

The door opened and Franz Severin, one of the two Grimm he set up as guards over Burkhardt, entered the room.

So his suspicion was right.

Eric turned to the Grimm and looked at his face very seriously. "Any news? Is he better?"

Franz nodded. "He seems to be getting back to normal pretty quickly, your highness. He sent me here. He wants to talk to you, saying it's important."

Eric sighed.

Nick really had to work on his timing after he joined Eric's forces. This was the third time he would be late to a meeting, or would have to leave early like he did in the first time.

"I'm coming," he said.

Adalind always tend to be late herself, so there was no need to be at the restaurant early. She'd better learn that he wasn't her servant. Well, hopefully this little comedy would end soon ...

But talking about lessons, maybe it was the time for Nick to get another one. Maybe he should witness what would happen to his fiance back in Portland, or sooner or later here, if he didn't cooperate.

Eric had already sent the needed papers to bring Juliette Silverton the same way to Austria as he did before with Nick Burkhardt. Well, not exactly the same, as this time the Baron would watch over her while she came via cargo-flight directly to Vienna. Hopefully, in a couple of days, Eric would have the right medium then to control his new Grimm.

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and used the speed-dial while he followed Franz to the renovated tower, his personal little Grimm-prison.

"_Qui?_" the dark and silky voice of the Cracher-Mortal answered after picking the call.

"Good evening, my dear Baron," Eric greeted his associate. "I hope the papers arrived in time?"

"They did," the voice told him. "I'm at her home now, waiting. She will be here soon."

Well, that would be a pleasant gift to teach his new Grimm the needed lesson.

"You wouldn't mind me letting the Grimm listen to your beautiful performance, do you?" Eric asked, climbing the stairs. "Could be exactly what he needs right now."

The Baron laughed. "She's arriving here now," he said. "And, of course, you are very welcome to listen and let him listen, your highness."

Franz looked back over his shoulder, then stepped aside and let Eric through the small hallway.

"I am sure this will be very entertaining, Baron," Eric smiled. "Oh, I just talked to your daughter today. She's all her father."

"She is. Eloise will follow me one day in the business. I'm glad you like her," the Cracher/Mortal said.

Well, not exactly liking. But Eloise Freda was definitely an interesting character and her special ability, as her father's, could cause a lot of havoc. To be true, she wasn't the Baron's real daughter, she was more special, and so he adopted and raised her as his own. But she wasn't a Cracher-Mortal like the Baron and his sons. No, she was something also interesting ...

Hans opened the door to the cell and let Eric enter.

The Royal raised his eyebrows when he saw Nick, still ashen and sweaty, on an endless march up and down this cell, but now stopping and turning to him. Face all pale but a very serious look in his eyes.

This really was interesting!

"She's coming up to the house," the Baron informed.

And Nick sank down on his knees right before him ...

* * *

**Now:**

"So, why don't you tell me?" Juliette asked with a bright smile on her face.

"Maybe later," Sergeant Wu answered and tilted his head a little. "What's up? Should I join you?" he nodded up to the house.

Juliette did another quick look. And again she saw the dark shadow in the window to the living-room.

She turned again to Wu and shook her head, grabbing her bag. "I think I can manage to put some clothes together by myself. Thank you." She smiled. A single line was growing on her forehead. "But ... be here in reach, okay?"

She felt her heartbeat speeding up when the adrenaline kicked in, and took another deep breath, wondering why Wu couldn't hear the drumrolls in her ears with the rushing of her blood as she could.

Wu nodded. "Will be." He smiled.

And Juliette opened the door and left the car. Her knees were filled with pudding and she forced herself to take the walk up the porch.

It would be so easy, she only had to turn around and call Wu to come and join her. She could again take the easiest way, the way that would risk both their lives.

This guy, Christian, to whom she'd spoken on Sean's phone, he was a real hero for warning her. But this was useless. She already felt the net closing all around her, and after the Cracher-Mortal spat Rosalee into a zombie, Juliette had made her decision. If he really wanted to come after her and Nick's baby, he would be welcomed to hell! She had been used too often, and playing the sitting duck wasn't her way to go. And with the pregnancy there also changed something inside her. Made her will stronger, herself more stubborn. If the Cracher-Mortal tried to trap and abduct her too, he should come. She would take him and teach him a lesson!

Juliette stopped at the porch, opening her bag. She took a last look back to the car, Monroe's old beetle with Sergeant Wu on the driver's seat. The Asian cop looked up to her.

Maybe she would see him now for the last time ... Or not!

Her fingers found the knife she still had in her bag, she took it and the keys, turning to the door.

It was time for a payback!

Juliette turned the key in the lock, unclosing the door and opening it.

She took a last deep breath, did another quick look over her shoulder but changed her mind. She had to stay focused now if she wanted to make this. Otherwise the Cracher-Mortal could surprise her, and that was the last thing she needed right now.

The knife in her hand but hidden in her bag, she entered her house. With one glance she cecked the stairs. Clear! She could see all the way down to the dining area, which also was clear. But she couldn't see the living-room or the kitchen.

When she saw that dark shadow the last time, he was looking out of the front window of the living room, just where Nick and she had set up their little TV area. Was he still there? Had he moved?

Juliette was lucky that the house had so much open space, but unlucky that there was enough obstruction to concel an attacker and allow him to come close to her. Close enough to spit in her face ...

Juliette stepped forward, pretending to be innocent and not knowing he was here as best as she could.

She could sense another living being around, but she still couldn't make out where.

Another step forward.

She listened, trying to figure out from where the attack could happen. The last thing she needed right now was an ambush.

She was of her rocker to think she could handle a Cracher-Mortal, the reasonable portion of her mind told her. Even Sean Renard had respect for those Wesen, leaving Monroe and Rosalee alone. This Cracher-Mortal had trapped Nick, who was on his own back then too. Nick was an experienced Grimm. what was she?

Juliette turned around the moment she heard a rustling behind her back.

"_Bonjour, ma belle,_" the dark-skinned man with the tophat greeted her. And then ... the woge started.

Once more Juliette felt this door inside her soul open and ... she lifted the knife, throwing her bag away. With one movement she was out of the reach of the Cracher-Mortal, spinning around behind him.

"This won't be necessary," he told her, turning. "Just ..."

With a scream Juliette lurched forward, jumping on him. Her legs closing around his hips, she raised the knife while his face became that of a giant blowfish. The blade sank into his eye, right before he could spit at her.

Now it was him who screamed.

Juliette flipped over his shoulder, spun around again and drove the knife to its hilt in his back. A dark and violent growl came up her throat as she yanked the knife out of his body again.

The Cracher-Mortal staggered forward with baby-steps, whimpering.

"This is for Nick!"Juliette yelled and hammered the knife a second time into his back. Then a third and fourth time, while the Wesen's steps got weaker and weaker, his screams slowed down to a moaning, and finally he sank to the ground.

The hatred, this cold and mighty emotion, controlled her completely, and Juliette was lucky she had this anger. Embracing it, she became something she never expected to be possible.

With a last wild scream she hammered the knife into the back of his neck, turning it and slicing through flesh, the gristle, and finally, with more force, slicing through the spine as the Cracher-Mortal died, his screams drowned in blood. Juliette scramble back to her feet again, soaked in Wesen blood, his severed head in one hand, knife in the other. She was shaking and freezing and growling all at the same time.

And then she heard a tiny little voice asking: "Baron? Are you okay?"

She let head and knife slip from her hands, rushing over to the counter where a cellphone was lying, activated.

Grabbing the phone she spun around once more after she heard the door lock clicking.

"Hello?" a voice with a british accent asked on the phone.

Juliette still fought to get the control over her body and her emotions back, took another deep breath before she said: "You will get your Baron back in pieces until you return Nick to me!" With that she ended the call, looking at Wu, who just entered the house.

The sergeant stared at the mess and the headless corpse, then at the separated head before he turned to her, eyes wide, face ashen.

"What did you do?" he asked.

"Made a point," Juliette answered. With a shaky hand she whipped some hair from her face, leaving a streak of red on her forehead between all the bloody dots.

Something had changed, she realized. She had changed. She didn't feel like she felt before ...

* * *

**Austria:**

Christian still was in the other cell, near to the one Eric and the two Grimm had just entered. He could see the man imprisoned there, now for the first time and also only for a few seconds, but long enough to recognize him.

He had finally found Nick Burkhardt!

Christian's stomach jumped a little in excitement while he carefully watched what was going on in the other cell, but couldn't really make out any real details thanks to the cousins Severin, who blocked his view almost completely.

Christian listened and heard Nick's voice, low and sounding a little desperate.

Then, suddenly, the scene changed abruptly. Eric stepped back, nearly bumping into the the bulky bodies of the two Grimm cousins. Christian thought he had heard something like a weak scream but wasn't sure.

Burkhardt was jumping to his feet again, trying to get after Eric.

"No! Don't do it! I'm here! I'm doing whatever you want!" the young Grimm screamed. The taller of the Severins pushed him back into the cell, while Eric still stumbled backwards with a pale face.

What was going on there?

Christian stepped back a little, still peeking through a small opening. He watched Eric now while he heard the Severins locking and blocking Burkhardt's cell.

"Baron? Are you okay?" Eric finally asked, and Christian realized the Royal was talking to a cellphone he held to his ear.

He seemed to get an answer as his face turned a little more white. The hand he held the cellphone in sank down while Eric stared into thin air, shaking and visibly shocked.

"Your highness?" the smaller of the Severins came to him, looking worried.

Eric still stared into thin air, gasping. Then he looked up. "Don't you feel it?" he asked. "Another one has just awoken. We woke her up!"

"Who?" the Grimm wanted to know.

Eric straightened his shoulders. Taking another deep breath, he regained his self control again. "Doesn't matter. One way or another, she will come here!" He turned and marched down the hallway to the staircase again.

Christian shut the door close as quietly as possible, still listening to what was going on. Footsteps were following Eric. He could hear the cousins talking with low voices, obviously confused about what they had just witnessed.

He waited until he was sure he was alone with the captured Grimm. Then he slowly opened the door again, peeked in all directions and left the cell carefully, stepping to the other one. There was a latch outside, which held a little window closed. He opened it and looked into the cell.

"Nick Burkhardt?" he whispered after he couldn't spot the Grimm.

"Another game?" a dark voice asked. "What does he have in mind now? I will give in, I will work for him, if he will leave Juliette untouched. You hear me?"

Christian frowned.

"I'm sure she's okay," he said after a short while. "So you are Nick Burkhardt, right?"

A face came up and Christian realized the Grimm had been sitting right before the door on the ground. Now he could see him clear: big blue-green eyes, dark hair, a little unshaved and pale.

"Who are you? Another one to torture me?" Nick asked.

Christian shook his head and smiled shyly. "My name is Christian, and I'm working for Sean Renard," he answered, "and you have no idea how relieved I am that I finally found you!"


	2. Surprising Offer

**A/N:** Thanks again for all the favs and follows :). And a very, very special thanks again to _MerlynPyndragon_ for her great work looking all of this through :).

* * *

Sean Renard watched how his detective, Hank Griffin, was lead to one of the police cars. He got to his own feet thinking of joining Hank, to talk to him and giving him a little hope. But one of the officers from the second precinct, which had been called in to the crime scene, stepped in his way.

"Sir, I fear I cannot let you through." The sergeant, his tag naming him 'Gonzales', shook his head. "I'm sorry."

Sean startled. "This is my crime scene, sergeant. I was here first," he said sharply.

Gonzales shrugged. "I fear it isn't anymore. Your detective is already a suspect, I doubt you want to join him in handcuffs in the backseat, sir."

Sean blinked. "Are you threatening me?"

Gonzales again shook his head. "I am following my orders, sir."

Sean saw Constance Vaurrier being led to another car.

Damn! What was going on here? Constance was his witness. He needed her to solve the case of burglaries ... Well, this case should be closed now, if her brother Remy really worked on his own like she had told him and Hank.

"What about her?" Sean asked.

Gonzales took a look over his shoulder, then turned around again. "What about her? She's a witness and accused detective Griffin of being the killer of her brother, Remy Vaurrier, who was found in the bathtub of his motel room. I think you already know that, because you were there too, right? How's the head?" He pointed at the captain's temple.

Sean had been attacked by the real killer before said killer jumped out of the window of Remy's motel room. However Hank ended up in the bathroom, and why he had fired his gun, Sean couldn't tell. He had been knocked on the head and barely conscious back then. When he finally woke up the police were already coming and the men of the second precinct had taken over the entire case, sending him with the paramedics to the ambulance.

"I'm good. And I think you should know that this is my case, sergeant," Sean said, squaring his shoulders.

Gonzales nodded, shrugged again and sighed. "Sorry, sir, but I fear, you are spoiled. You are too close to the suspect, we cannot let you near our crime scene, the suspect or the witness."

Sean blinked.

Did the guy in front of him just told him to back off and leave them alone? Him? He was a highly decorated captain and head of an entire precinct!

"I am investigating a series of burglaries, sergeant. Your vic is my suspect!" Sean told the smaller man.

Gonzales nodded again and pulled a notebook out of his jacket. "So, you were investigating these burglaries yourself, sir? That's really unusual! And how did you end up with a dead suspect and a detective with the murder weapon in his hands?"

If only he could remember!

Sean shook his head. "I don't know. But I will find out the minute you let me talk to my detective, sergeant!" Slowly the end of his patience came into sight.

Gonzales pulled a face. "I'm sorry but I can't I have to follow my orders. And these orders are clear, sir."

Sean rolled his eyes.

This guy was as adamant as Wu! Where the heck did Gonzales come from?

"What orders? From whom?" Sean demanded to know.

Gonzales put his notebook awayand slipped his hands in the side pockets of his jacket. "My captain, sir. I fear you have to talk to him first. He told us to take over everything from you and the third precinct that is somehow connected to this case."

"Are you kidding me?" Taking over everything? Who was this guy?

"I'm sorry but that's my orders, sir. And to send you from the crime scene. To quote: send him away or put him in the backseat." Gonzales sighed again, looking over his shoulder. He watched the car with Hank inside leave the parking lot of the motel.

Sean bit his lips. He couldn't believe what he just heard.

Who was this captain? Suddenly he remembered. The commissioner had sent a letter to all the precinct in and around Portland to inform them about the change in command, bringing in a new man to lead the second precinct instead of promoting a cop from one of the other precincts after Rheinhardt, the old captain, retired. Sean remembered that he was surprised to learn about this new guy but he never imaged such a rough start.

"Tell your captain he cannot take over the burglaries, that's impossible!" Sean stopped for a second, shook then his head. A sharp pain was rumbling in his injured temple. "Screw this, I'm calling him myself. Do you have his number?"

Gonzales pursed his lips, trying to look as innocent as possible. "You don't have him in your speed-dial?" he asked, surprised.

Sean gave the smaller man a warning stare. "No, I haven't. I am busy with a million other things, just in case you are interested!"

"Like working on burglaries?" Gonzales seemed somehow to enjoy this conversation. Sean didn't have a clue why.

"Will you give the number to me or not?" Sean asked sharply.

"Not necessary. The captain is on his way. He wants to take a look at the crime scene himself. He should be here any minute, sir." Gonzales grinned.

Sean's cellphone began to buzz. Pulling it out of his pocket he checked the screen to see that Wu was calling him.

"Just a second," Sean told Gonzales. He turned around and accepted the call. "Sergeant, is everything okay?" he wanted to know.

The last thing he knew was that the remaining group would split up after the Fuchsbau was healed from the zombification. Now he was getting nervous. What if the Cracher-Mortal was after Juliette, just like Christian had told him?

"Ahm, I fear we have a problem," Wu told him. "It's sort of a little messy right now but we could use your help, captain."

Sean sighed. "That's not really possible right now. Hank is just on his way to the second precinct," he said.

"What the hell did Hank do? I thought you went with him to stop him from his idiocy, captain." Wu asked.

Sean laughed humurlessy. "Hank's accused of murder, Wu. That's why he's on his way to the second precinct. Here's a sergeant, very annoying and bold, maybe you know him. His name is Gonzales."

"Rico! He's a fine guy, sir. We were in the same LARP club for a while. He's a good one."

Why oh why did he ask? And what the hell was LARP?

"But, captain, I fear I must insist you to come over to Juliette's," Wu continued. "This is really bad."

Sean rolled his eyes again. Looking over his shoulder he saw Gonzales watching him, smirking. Frowning, he turned his back to the sergeant.

"What's so important that I should come immediately instead of trying to get to Hank?" Sean wanted to know.

"Juliette just killed that Cracher-guy," Wu answered.

Sean froze. "Pardon?" he asked. "Juliette did what?"

"Juliette killed the Cracher-Mortal. The guy you all are thinking is guilty of abducting Nick," Wu repeated. "She chopped off his head."

Sean"s eyes widened. "She ..."

"With a kitchen knife," Wu said. "Head clean off. Doesn't sound any better in all variants, does it?"

Sean couldn't believe what he just heard.

Juliette, truly she could become a real badass. He had watched her when they were both under Adalind's sexual attraction-spell. And also Nick had shared one or two stories about Juliette being able to watch her own back. But killing someone?

"Are you kidding me?" Sean asked.

"I fear not, sorry. What I should do now? I don't think calling for backup or the coroner would be a clever move. True, it surely was self defense but ..." Wu stopped, obviously awaiting his answer.

Again Sean looked over his shoulder – and this time the cellphone nearly slipped through his fingers after he saw who had just parked a car and come over to the crime scene.

"Viktor?" Sean asked, baffled.

* * *

After she heard the knock Juliette crossed Wu, who was on his cellphone, to the front door and was more than relieved so see a part of Monroe's head in the door window. But after she opened the door, she suddenly felt guilty when she noticed Rosalee behind the Blutbad, still a little pale and with dark shadows underneath her eyes.

"I'm so sorry!" Juliette greeted them both. "But I didn't know who else to call ..."

Monroe sniffed and frowned. "Is Nick's mother back?" he asked. "I smell something ..."

Rosalee behind him woged into her Fuchsbau and took a breath herself. "That's not Kelly. Someone else."

Monroe turned to her. "Really?" he asked.

"I'm so sorry, Rosalee," Juliette said again, feeling really guilty.

She didn't know what to do exactly after she calmed down. Wu didn't want to call this in because, like he said, the fact that the Cracher-Mortal was stabbed several times and that she beheaded him didn't necessarily mean it was self-defense.

"You shouldn't woge, Rosi," Monroe said. "You are still a little weak."

Juliette opened the door wide to let her guests in.

Monroe sniffed again after he stepped into the house. Rosalee hesitated but finally crossed the doorstep, watching Juliette. And then ... she woged again, only to jump back to the porch immediately. "Oh my God!"

Juliette stared at the Fuchsbau. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you in any way?" she asked.

Rosalee took a deep breath and shook her head. "You don't know it, right?" she asked. It seemed to take a lot of her to come closer again.

Monroe had turned around after he heard her. Frowning he looked at both women. "What is wrong? Juliette, are you sure Nick's mom isn't back? That smell ..."

"It's her," Rosalee told him.

Three pair of eyes stared at her.

"What?" asked Juliette and Monroe in unison.

Rosalee nodded. "Juliette, didn't you feel the change? You are a Grimm!"

Juliette stared at the Fuchsbau and shook her head. The next moment Monroe was near her, sniffing again. Startled he took a step back from her. "How is that possible?"

Juliette was confused, but then she turned around and looked again at the body in her dining room, now underneath a blanket.

She felt something had changed, that there was this anger that gave her the power and strength to do what was necessary. But ... was this how Nick felt? Did she become a Grimm because she carried his child.

"We probably should close the door before one of the neighbours sees something he shouldn't," Wu insisted. Putting his cellphone in his pocket again he turned around. "Is that Grimm-thing a sort of disease now? It looks like it's increasing. First Nick, now Juliette ..."

Rosalee finally entered the house so Juliette could close the door.

That was something she had to think about, she decided. Nick had already referred that some Grimm would think about their inheritance as a curse. But why her?

Monroe finally noticed the body in the dining room. "What happened here?" he asked and sniffed again. "Man, this was bloody!"

"I killed the Cracher-Mortal," Juliette answered. "He waited for me here."

Monroe looked at her.

Rosalee put her arm around Juliette's shoulders and turned her to the living room. "We should discuss this in private, don't you think?" she asked.

"I just called the captain," he informed them all. "I think he's on his way. I doubt I should call this in, right?"

"You shouldn't," Monroe answered.

Juliette sat down on the couch, Rosalee on her side. The Fuchsbau took her hand and smiled at her. "Do you know when you changed?" she asked.

When ... Juliette remembered the first time her anger nearly took over was when she was last at the Spice-Shop, after Christian told her about the possibility the Cracher-Mortal was coming after her. Was that the moment the Grimm awoke?

"I don't know," she finally answered.

Monroe joined them, Wu on his heels. "Man, you did some hard work on that guy," he said, sitting down at one of the arm chairs opposite the couch. "Must be pretty hard for you to do, huh?"

Juliette again thought about her answer before she shook her head. "No, don't think so. I only wanted him gone and did what I had to do." She looked up, staring at each of them separately one after the other. "I will become human again, right? I am not a real Grimm?"

Monroe and Rosalee exchanged a look, then the Fuchsabu said, "I fear it's not that easy, Juliette. Do you know of any relative of yours who could be a good candidate for a Grimm?"

"Uncle Norman was ..." Juliette shook her head. "No, no way! I don't believe that! I will get over it and turning normal again. It's the baby, I'm sure!"

But she saw again this exchanging of looks and she knew the answer.

"It's you. It's not the child," Monroe answered.

Juliette tried to remember what she had read in Nick's trailer about Grimm. It was inherited. So there has to be someone in her family! There has to ...

Uncle Norman. She'd just thought about him, coming over, looking haunted and tired and terrified all at the same time. Norman had died young, three years ago.

"Maybe I'm the only one who cares but I think we should get rid of the body," Wu insisted. "Whatever happened to Juliette can wait until after that. He's not going to be any better in a day or two ..."  
"I know that!" Monroe turned to Wu and pointed at the windows. "But what do you see outside there?"

Wu blinked. "I am not following ..."

Juliette looked over her shoulder, and suddenly she was wondering how it was still daylight. Shouldn't it be in the middle of the night?

Rosalee looked at her, thoughtful. "You thought of someone, right?" she said with a low voice.

Juliette nodded. "My uncle, my mother's brother. He died a while ago but he was pretty much how you guys describe Grimm."

"What? All blood-thristy and with an axe in his hands, among other things?" Monroe tried to bring in a little humour.

Juliette smiled dryly.

"Why did you call us here?" Rosalee asked.

Wu sighed. "I don't like it to be ignored," he told them.

"No one's ignoring you, man. We only have to deal with something serious here," Monroe told him.

"I spoke to Eric," Juliette looked up again. "I want to send a message, Monroe. Nick told me last time you helped him with that."

"What message?" Rosalee wanted to know.

Sie sighed again. "That I would send him his Baron back to Austria in pieces," she answered.

Monroe looked over his shoulder to the blanket. "Well, I guess you did a good job with that ..."

Wu stared. "Are you out of your mind? She killed that guy. And it wasn't exactly silent! On both sides."  
Juliette shrugged. "I did feel something changing but ... I will be normal again, I ... I have to!"

Another exchange of looks between Monroe and Rosalee.

"What do you want us to do?" the Fuchsbau finally asked.

"I don't know, I really have no idea!" Juliette looked up. "I was so sure ..."

"If you have no idea if your uncle was a Grimm we probably should start there," Rosalee suggested. "Maybe there's a solution then."

Monroe sighed and took another look over his shoulder. "Man, they are growing up so quickly ..." He stood up and looked at Wu. "Would you lend a helping hand to me?"

Wu looked up. "For what?"

Monroe again looked at the body. "Making the package ready and cleaning the mess," he answered.

Wu hesitated.

"And you two should rest a little," Monroe insisted, looking at both women. "Let us guys do what needs to be done now."

"She just killed a man!" Wu said desperately.

Monroe nodded. "I know. But that guy was a bad one ..."

* * *

"So ... what are you doing here?" Sean asked, watching his cousin approach.

Sergeant Gonzales looked at his boss, shrugged and went off.

And for Sean, some loose ends just were just tied together:

Another Royal in Portland, the burglary with the dead housekeeper, the paintings on the walls, Constance Vaurrier hesitating and not wanting to give him the name of this other person.

It wasn't a different Royal family, it was his own. And Sean was pretty sure neither Eric nor their father knew where Viktor was right now.

"I was just about to pay you a visit at the precinct. You know, bringing some nice presents witch me, exchanging some of them with you ..." Viktor Renard greeted him with a smile.

Handsome and distinguished, typical English gentleman, but a little old fashioned that way, a well trimmed beard and an arrogant smile on his lips, Viktor tried his best to show himself in the best possible light. Craving for power, slimy as a toad and artful as a snake he was also a dangerous villain, not as dangerous as Eric but dangerous enough to be able to put Sean into serious trouble if he had the right inclination. Eric never trusted their cousin, and Sean only could feel the same – especially after it was Viktor who was to blame for him leaving Europe forever.

"I don't think I would accept anything coming from you," Sean told his cousin in a cold tone, and stepped back after Viktor opened his arms like he wanted to embrace him. "I remember quite clearly your last attempt to kill me."

"Still holding that old grudge?" Viktor seemed surprised but stood still now, a little smile in the corner of his mouth. "Well, I can't say I'm not touched by that."

"What do you want here?" Sean asked with a stony face.

Viktor got a pipe out of his jacket, then a lighter, and burned a little tobacco.

Sean sniffed.

"I wanted to try your lifestyle for a while," Viktor then told him. "And I wanted to make you an offer."

"So, you think you can come here, take - I have no idea how - a position in the police department without having any experience, and show me how to do my work?"

From the corner of his eye he saw Gonzales, leaning at the side of a police car and watching them from a distance.

"Actually I think I am pretty good in my job. Management I've learned from the best," Viktor told him.

"Eric, I remember," Sean said.

"And Eric manages the whole family business, as the King is seriously sick," continued Viktor.

"I know that." Still Sean's voice was cold. "I hope you know what you are doing. It could come down to me if you screw up. And I don't want that conversation with the commissioner or the mayor."

"Me neither, cousin, me neither." Viktor smiled again. "It's a nice little place you have for your own here, cousin. I disagree with Eric about Portland. Actually it could be a much more interesting place than even your father thought."

Sean folded the arms before his chest. "What do you want?" he repeated.

Viktor turned the pipe upside down and knocked it softly against the ambulance before he looked up again. "Making you an offer, my dear cousin," then he said.

Sean's face turned into a mask of stone. "What offer?"

Viktor put the pipe back into the pocket of his jacket and shrugged. "I think you may be aware of how your brother is putting himself in the middle of everything. The minute your father is dead Eric not only will take the throne, no no. He has his handymen everywhere and I'm pretty sure he will get rid of anyone who would dare to challenge him."

Still Sean's face was all stone. "That's nothing new, but common after a new king gets his crown," he said. "I don't see any offer so far. In fact, Eric and I have an agreement. I'm not after the throne, I'm pretty good with where I am."

That wasn't exactly the truth but it was the official statement he gave everyone coming to him with such an offer. Sean was sure it would take more than one or two third or fourth cousins to take over the power (and to keep it). Most of the princes were simply nervous what could happen to their privileges after Eric became king.

"Are you sure your brother remembers the agreement? Because to me it doesn't look like there's any sort of communication between you two." Viktor smiled again.

"Do you want the throne? Well, go ahead and take it. I'm not getting in your way!" Sean said.

The smile on Viktor's face vanished for a second before it sat in place again. "I'm the son of a third cousin. Before I have a chance to take over I have to kill nearly the entire family," Viktor told him. "No, I am not interested in becoming king. I'm more of a kingmaker. If the candidate wants to become king ... "

Sean frowned.

King? He? And Viktor wanted to help him take the thronse?

"Are you okay?" he asked, looking at his cousin as though he could read on his forehead what he was planing.

Viktor was right, he would have to get rid of too many members of the family and ruin it in the process. And a weak family Renard ... the other six families would do everything in their power to kill them all.

"I'm pretty much okay," Viktor told him. "And surely I would love to take the crown but unfortunately that will never happen. But I could help my dear cousin Sean getting the throne ... and maybe after he has the crone on his head he would think of me, maybe with giving some land to me?"

Sean looked at his cousin and wished he could read his mind.

Viktor was a threat on his own, and he was ready to risk a lot to fulfill his dreams. It was possible that, if Saen agreed, he would find himself inside a cask on its way somewhere else, most likely dead by then.

"Why are you coming to me?" Sean asked. "I doubt that it's only the love between relatives, right? What is it?"

The smile returned. "I had to think of you a lot lately, you know?" Viktor asked.

"That's no answer!"

"That's the best answer you will get from me. Let's make uns a deal, try out if we fit together first before finally teaming up. You will get the throne and maybe leave some bread crumbs for me?"

"And if Eric finds out early I will be the one whose head would be taken?"

Viktor didn't look too worried about that. "There's always danger," he told Sean. "But, as I said, look at you! Your own brother stoly your property from you and your hands are tied. I could help with that too."

Sean startled. "What do you mean?"

"I know Eric has your Grimm, my dear cousin. That's what I mean." Viktor's face was very serious. He stepped closer, looking deep into Sean's eyes. "If I were you, I know what I would do! But Eric had planned this move long ago, right? You lost your allies, like I did with mine."

Sean lifted his chin. "You didn't lose your housekeeper two nights ago, do you?" he asked.

Viktor smirked. "Sometimes sacrifices are necessary. You should know that the best."

Sean looked at his cousin, nodding thoughfully while he slowly absorbed most of the picture.

Sure, he would never find the evidence to tie Viktor to the murder of Remy Vaurrier but he knew somehow Viktor had killed him. Vaurrier was his creature, and most likely the Baillines came with him over here. And, most important, there was a chance that Vaurrier also had brought information in about Eric. Information Sean could need right now.

Viktor stepped back, still keeping eye contact. "Let me know what you decide," he said. "But don't make me wait too long, my dear cousin."

Sean watched Viktor enter the crime scene. And again he looked at Sergeant Gonzales, who was still leaning at the police car, returning his look ...


	3. Dangerous Business

**A/N: **Thanks for the follows :). And a very special thanks again to _MerlynPyndragon_ for her awesome work as a beta!

* * *

**One week later**:

"And there should be a new announcement about the upcoming changes in the management of the mine," Eric said, flipping through the pages of the latest dossier.

Christian wrote down a note on his to-do-list for the rest of the day, looking up again. "Anything else, your highness?"

Eric sighed and set the loose papers aside before leaning forward, his hands folded on the desk. He studied the face of his secretary, lips pursed.

Christian did his best to look as innocent as possible. Fortunately his Maushertz-side was a huge advantage.

"Yes, there is," Eric finally decided. Leaning back on his chair his eyes began to wonder through his office. "Do you remember the small suite in my rooms?"

Christian placed his notebook on his leg and frowned. "You mean the old butler's rooms?"

Eric nodded. "Exactly those! I want them renovated as quickly as possible."

Christian, still frowning, made another note.

"But!" Eric lifted one finger. "It should be from the same company that renovated the old tower last year."

Christian looked up. "Is there a specific reason why, your highness? I only ask because of the approval. You know how the treasury secretary of your father's can be. Gebrueder Holstein was a topic last year and I guess, they will be this time again."

"Tell that over-aged dinosaur they have special skills I need for doing the renovation right. Just in case he hasn't noticed, this castle is about 700 years old. We cannot hire the cheapest idiots on the market."

Christian nodded again but didn't write this out.

To be correct, Hermstein, the minister of finance of the house Renard, wasn't really a problem. He himself wanted to know what Eric had planned.

Those rooms he mentioned hold a hidden doorway. A six-room apartment on a secret floor, entrance only possible through Eric's own rooms.

"And there will be a change in my staff," the prince continued. "A new man will fill in for Lukas. For him are the rooms."

Christian took a deep breath. The fingers around his pencil went white, so hard did he pressed it. A soft click warned him that the pencil was about to break.

"Of course, your highness," Christian said.

So, that was the plan for the Grimm? Placing him in the middle of Eric's private rooms would make an escape impossible. Hopefully the move from the cell in the tower to the suite in Eric's private part of the castle wouldn't be as quick as he feared. The spare rooms hadn't been used during the past twenty years, so a renovation would take some time.

Eric leaned back, folding his fingers. He began to smile a cold smile. "There will be a few changes in the near future," he continued. "The new man and his fiancee won't be the only one."

Christian lifted his eyebrows in a faked surprise. "Oh, he's bringing his wife with him?" he asked.

"So far they are not married. Maybe we will have something to celebrate later, you know? Maybe he wants me to marry them, who knows?" Eric shrugged. "His fiancee will arrive here soon. She should be here by now but ... there's a small issure causing a delay I will have fixed soon."

Christian looked down at his notebook but didn't even try to write down anything. "So, I assume this new man is here?" he asked.

Eric blinked and seemed to realize that he probably had said a little too much. Moving on his chair to sit upright again the smile vanished. He looked at Christian thoughtful. "You know that I trust you, don't you?" he asked.

Christian bowed his head. "I feel honored, your highness, for your trust in me."

"If I ever find out that you are aiming to betray me -"

With a bang the door sprang open and a woman stormed in. "We need to talk, NOW!"

Christian jumped to his feet. Whirling around he stared in the face of a woman he barely remembered from a long time ago. Back then she was here too, together with ...

"Eloise, I'm so sorry for your loss!" Eric said. Slwoly he stood up and leaned forward. "But would you please respect that is my home and my office and you are nothing more than an unexpected guest at my table?" His voice was very calm, but also very threatening and cold.

The woman startled and seemed to realize that her rude entry wasn't really welcomed.

Christian stepped backwards. Again he bowed. "Your highness," he mumbled, still watching the familiar looking woman he couldn't really place.

"I am demanding my right of revenge! I want the heads of those animals who did this to my father!" she said harshly.

Christian turned around after he finally realized who just stormed into Eric's office.

"Baronesse," he greeted before he finally left the room, closing the door.

Baron Samedi's stepdaughter had just arrived. And that was the worst news he could collect ...

* * *

The woman opening the door looked like Juliette, Monroe decided. A Juliette, only twenty (or a little more) years older. Grey strands of hair at her temples, lines in her face telling about her life. Yes, this was Juliette's mother – or a very much older sister.

"Juliette?" Mrs. Silverton called, surprised. Looking first at her daughter, then up to Monroe, she really seemed confused. So the Blutbad put on his best and friendliest smile and nodded.

"Mom," Juliette greeted. "Sorry for the short notice."

The "short notice" was a call she made only five minutes before they arrived here, in a small town between Portland and Seattle.

Mrs. Silverton shook her head. "No problem. I'm glad to see you." But the smile on her lips wasn't in the right position, there was no light of excitement in her eyes to see her daughter.

Juliette turned to Monroe. "This is a friend of mine. Monroe," she introduced him. "Monroe, meet my mother."  
Monroe, still smiling the friendliest smile he had on stock, nodded again. "I'm honored to meet you, Mrs. Silverton. Juliette did ... tell a lot about you." Which was a complete lie, and the look in the dark-grey eyes of the older woman answered him that she was well aware of that.

"Mister Monroe," Mrs. Silverton answered, lowering her head a little.

"Only Monroe. That's enough."

"I need to talk to you, Mom," Juliette said. "It's urgent and important. That's why I came here on such a short notice."

Mrs. Silverton lifted her chin a little. "Oh! Of course, come on in." She welcomed her unexpected guests and opened the door completely.

Monroe really started to wonder what was going on between mother and daughter. Juliette had never mentioned her at all, and if Nick hadn't told him a while ago, Monroe would have been really baffled after Juliette said she wanted to meet her mother to talk to her about this mysterious Uncle Norman.

As Captain Renard had asked for help in case of the still accused Hank, and Rosalee had some important errands to do, Monroe had decided to drive with Juliette to meet her mom.

Mrs. Silverton led them into a huge living room with a beautiful view into the woods. The furniture was - no doubt here was where Juliette got her taste from - distinguished chic without being too snobby in Monroe's eyes. The highlight of the room was an old clock with a hand-carved frame standing by the back wall.

"Do you want a coffee? Or a tea? Maybe water?" Mrs. Silverton asked and broke the spell before Monroe could fall into deep love with the clock.

"No, I'm good, Mom," Juliette answered. Monroe shook his head and sat down on one of the armchairs, near to said clock to continuing studying its movement.

"Okay." Mrs. Silverton took a seat on another armchair, on the opposite side to Juliette, who took the couch. "What do you want to talk to me about?"

"First of all, I'm pregnant," Juliette said.

"Oh my God!" Mrs. Silverton hid her mouth behind her hands and stared at her daughter. "Are you sure?"

Juliette nodded when Monroe looked at her.

Mrs. Silverton looked at the Blutbad. "Are you ... ?" she asked.

"No, it's not me. I'm about to get married, you know?" Monroe answered quickly. "To a very lovely woman, who's not Juliette."

"It's Nick's," Juliette said.

Mrs. Silverton looked at her again. "I see ..." Suddenly the upcoming excitement vanished complitely, making Monroe wonder.

"But that's not what I want to discuss with you right now," Juliette continued. "I need to learn more about Uncle Norman."

Mrs. Silverton's face went pale. "Juliette, that's not a good topic," she warned. "If you fear for the baby ... don't do that! Nowadays there are so many different ways of treating schizophrenia. Even if you are carrying ..."

"Schizophrenia?" Monroe interrupted. "Are you sure?"

Mrs. Silverton looked at him. "What else would you call someone seeing strange things? My brother was diagnosed with schizophrenia, yes."

"And I doubt that was true," Juliette said. "Mom, I need to know if there's anything you inherited from Uncle Norman."

"I don't think you understand, my dear," Mrs. Silverton said. "If you fear for the baby, that's okay. But schizophrenia is nowadays ..."

"Dear Mom!" Juliette screamed. "I'm not here because Uncle Norman might have been schizophrenic! I am here because I need to know some things about him and if he had any sort of legacy!"

Mrs. Silverton startled. "Juliette, this isn't about you, is it?" she asked, face still pale. "If so, I'm sure ..."

"I am not schizophrenic, Mom. And I think neither was Uncle Norman," Juliette took some deep breaths to calm down again. "And I need to know if there ever were others like Uncle Norman. Others you would refer as mentally ill."

Mrs. Silverton looked at Monroe. "I'm sorry for this topic, Mister Monroe. I really am. This shouldn 't be discussed outside the family."

Monroe pulled the smile back on his face. "It's okay, Mrs. Silverton. A nice clock you have here ... I assume European?"

"Switzerland," Mrs. Silverton confirmed.

Juliette leaned forward, staring at her mother. "Mom, I NEED this information! Now!"

"Why? Juliette, why do you want to dig into the family curse? You should be lucky not to be part of it." Mrs. Silverton tried a sad smile now. It failed.

"You said your brother claimed he could see strange creatures?" Monroe asked.

Mrs. Silverton nodded. "Yes, he said he saw them change right before his eyes. But there was never anything else than average people, I'm sure!"

"Were there others before Uncle Norman?" Juliette repearted.

Mrs. Silverton sighed. "As far as I know yes," she finally answered. "Your grandaunt Silvia and I think I remember there also was her father, so your great-great grandfather."

"And they never survived very long, right?" Monroe asked. "They died young. Possibly violently?"

"I don't know where this is leading to," Mrs. Silverton said. "But it's painful. Juliette, please! If there's something you have to tell me, I am sure we will find help if you need it."

"Is there anything you have from Uncle Norman?" Juliette asked, ignoring the plea from her mother.

Mrs. Silverton again looked at Monroe. "I'm very sorry, Mister Monroe."

"Don't be." Juliette lifted her chin. "This isn't a curse, Mom. This isn't even an illness! This is -"

"Something more complicated than you might think," Monroe interrupted Juliette, sending her a warning stare. "But we really have to find out, if your brother left a legacy after he passed. This really could be important."

"Is it because Nick is missing? Do you think you will find anything valuable among his stuff?" Mrs. Silverton asked her daughter. "Juliette, I may not always be with you, especially when it comes down to Nick, but this is ridiculous! If you need money, say it!"

Monroe blinked.

Mrs. Silverton didn't like Nick and that was why Juliette broke with her? Maybe, he decided.

"No, Mom, this isn't because of Nick. This is because of me," Juliette said.

"What is it?" Monroe interrupted again. "Nick at all or Nick as a cop?"

"The cop part of the Nick story," Juliette answered for her mother.

"That's not true, not completely! I liked him, but you see where his job brought you now," Mrs. Silverton said.

"Nick isn't dead, Mom! He was taken from me!" Juliette snapped.

Mrs. Silverton shook her head. It was as clear as day that she didn't believe this. Who would? Nick wasn't rich, he hadn't inherited much. From the outside, there was nothing that could make him valuable enough to abduct him.

"It's true. Nick's alive, we know for sure," Monroe said, as calmly as possible in hopes of not witnessing how mother and daughter could really start to fight.

Mrs. Silverton looked at him. "So, he's gone and left you behind?" she assumed then.

Juliette shook her head. "No! Nick even doesn't know that I am pregnant. I found out after he vanished."

"And that makes it even harder," Mrs. Silverton said softly. "Oh, Juliette, if you only would try to understand! My concern from the very beginning was that you would end in a situation like this – or very similar to this. Don't you see that you are throwing your life away? For what? Nick will not come back to you, maybe he isn't alive anymore anymore!"

"He is! Mom, why don't you listen? We have proof!"

Monroe frowned. "This isn't all about Nick, is it?" he asked. "This is to distract us from the real reason why we are here."

Mrs. Silverton took a deep breath and looked at Monroe like a deer in the headlights.

Juliette looked at the Blutbad, then again to her mother. "Do you holding something back, Mom?" she asked.

Mrs. Silverton shook her head and got up from the armchair. "Maybe it would be better if you left now. Both of you."

Monroe looked at her, studying her face. "You are not speaking the truth here," he repeated. "There's something you're holding back."

Instinct. That was what told him that. All over his life Monroe had always studied people, sometimes drawn out, sometimes from the front window of his little house. He could sense it if a human was lying, and Mrs. Silverton truly was lying about something.

"What are you hiding from me, Mom?" Juliette demanded to know. "Does it have anything to do with Uncle Norman?"

Mrs. Silverton shook her head. "It's time to leave now if you don't accept the truth, Juliette."

"What truth, Mom? What truth? I think you are the one not accepting the truth here. Not everything is easy to explain or to accept, true! But you should show at least a little faith! Norman was your brother as he was my uncle!"

"Your favourite uncle." Mrs. Silverton sighed and blinked, looking out of the window into the small yard and the woods behind.

Monroe wasn't sure if they should push her. For his own taste this was enough, but he didn't know Mrs. Silverton.

"Mom, this could also be important for Nick! There's so much you don't understand, believe me. And I think Uncle Norman was part of this. And that is why I need to look through his stuff!" Juliette stood up, looking very serious at her mother. "I would never disrespect Uncle Norman, never!"

"I know that! That's why I'm hiding it!" Mrs. Silverton stared into thin air for a moment, trying to realize what she just said.

"So, there's a legacy?" Monroe said.

Mrs. Silverton shook her head again, desperately. "Please, let this be, Juliette! You don't know what you would face if you don't."

"That is why I am here, Mom! I know those things, and I have to find out if there are more out there. I have to understand it! I have to! Not only for me, but for the child!"

Mrs. Silverton closed her eyes. In her eye lashes Monroe could see tears shimmering.

"There's a trunk in the attic," the older woman finally gave in. "I've stored it since Norman was the last time around."

Monroe frowned while Juliette went quickly to the stairs.

"Did you say 'the last time'?" the Blutbad asked. "The last time as in he's still alive?"

Juliette froze, turned around then again, looking at her mother.

At first Mrs. Silverton shook first her head, now openly crying. But after a moment she changed her mind and nodded.

"He's alive?" Juliette asked, baffled.

"I don't know if he is still alive," Mrs. Silverton said. "But I know two months ago he was."

Monroe exchanged a look with Juliette, before she sped up and ran to the stairs.

"Aren't Grimm supposed to be loners?" Monroe muttered. "Well, obviously I just stumbled into a whole hive ..."

* * *

The little restaurant Christian had gotten him a table at really was one of the better, Eric decided. The meal probably wasn't world class but tasty, the wine a little too dry for his personal taste but the cognac he had now was surely the best he had for a long time. He really had to find out what distillery they got it from and buy some bottles for his private cellar.

Eric leaned back in his chair, took a look all around the restaurant before he finally said to his guest, "Never do that again, especially not in front of any of my servants. Do you hear me?"

Eloise, the stepdaughter of Baron Samedi, nodded with thin lips.

Eric leaned forward again, still staring at her. "It doesn't matter if we have history or not. You are a guest in my home, so you should behave like a guest. I understand you were close to your father, I understand his death is hitting you hard. But there's no excuse to coming to me in the way you did this afternoon. Do you understand?" Keeping his voice low but cold, she would know how close she was to getting punished.

After a long-lasting stare, Eloise finally lowered her head. "I am sorry, your highness. You are right, I crossed a line I shouldn't have."

Eric nodded. Taking the glass he sipped a little cognac, rolled it several times around in his mouth and tasting the alcohol, the wood and the wine.

"But I have the right for revenge. Those animals not only killed my father, they humilated his body and now send it back piece by piece. This is an outrage, Eric," Eloise said. "So, after I have spoken to my brothers I demand the family right to avenge what was done to our father."

"Denied," Eric said, putting the glass back on the table.

"What? You cannot do that!" Eloise glared at him, a muscle in her cheek jumping.

"I cannot give you the right," Eric said to her. "You don't understand what happened to your father and why it is important that his killers are kept alive – at least for a while."

"You cannot deny me, Eric! This is law! Those bastards killed a member of one of the oldest noble families. If you deny our right of revenge, this will fall back on you. And I don't think you would like where this could lead to directly ..."

"Are you threatening me?" Eric asked, head tilted. "Because I don't like to be threatened, and that could end ugly for you and your family. What about losing your privileges? We could discuss that if you like."

Eloise crossed her arms before her chest. "I'm not leaving without permission! I could have waited for as long as it took for them to sent his whole body. But this way? Every day a piece of him? No way!"

Eric nodded.

"So, do you give your permission or do I have to pay the king a visit?" Eloise asked, eyes narrowing.

Eric had thought this situation through. He had a plan. And he needed her anger to get what the Baron couldn't bring to him.

He still wanted Juliette and the baby. Besides the murder Nick would do for him in a week they would be the best guarantee in keeping the Grimm under Eric's thumb. He should have thought about this earlier, the prince told himself. He should have watched Sean better to understand how he got the control over this unusual Grimm.

But now ...

Eric thinned his lipe. Staring into the glass with the cognac he thought his plan through again.

Eloise, the new head of the family, the new baronesse of the caribbean islands, had a special ability. Maybe he should have asked for her help first instead of the Baron, as Eloise's special ability wasn't as noisy as the zombies her stepfather created. And right now, her special talent would surely be the smartest move to get Juliette and the baby out of Portland and into his castle. He only had to make it look like he just came to this idea on this table.

"I cannot give you permission and I can only hope you will let my father stay out of this," Eric finally said. Hesitately looking up he tried his best so act weak, as if she really had hit him hard.

Eloise lifted her chin, a satisfied smile pulling one corner of her mouth.

"I need one person from the group of suspects for killing your father. I'm pretty sure she doesn't have something to do with his death but she's protected by the others. And I know your temper. You would probably lose control."

The smile died. Instead a line grew on her forehead. "This person has nothing to do with my father's death? Are you sure?" she asked.

He was sure she had but he needed her alive. "Look, as long as you can guarantee that you won't go after her I'm fine with you killing the others, especially as one of them is my brother Sean." Eric smiled.

Eloise lifted an eyebrow. "Father was still in Portland? Why was he there?" she asked.

He sighed. "Do you know why I asked your father to go there?"

Eloise frowned. "I think I know why," she finally told him.

"You see? I realized that I made a mistake bringing only him with me. He has a girlfriend, and I sent your father to bring her too," Eric said. "And then he was killed. I'm sure it was this rabble of rebellious Wesen my brother has gathered all around him. The girlfriend is pregnant with the child of the Grimm, and you know how precious this child could be."

Eloise started to nod. "I see ..."

Eric sighed again. "I need the girlfriend to control the Grimm. Unfortunately my dear brother did a sloppy job with taming him so I have to do it ..."

"And with this girlfriend it would be a lot easier," Eloise continued, still nodding. Finally she caught eye-contact with him again and sat upright. "Give the order to me. I will make sure this girlfriend will arrive here safely and I will take revenge on the others protecting her. So we are both getting what we want."

Eric's smile grew. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Give me the details."

* * *

Nick sat once more with his back against the door and ate a sandwich this guy, Christian, had brought to him

This had become a daily routine for the past week. Every evening with sunset the little man with the French accent came to the door and brought two sandwiches with him. Christian had explained to Nick that this was the only time the two Grimm Hans and Franz left the tower together and left him alone so they could have dinner.

That made sense, Nick decided. And he was more than thankful that Christian came every day. It was a relief to have someone to talk to, someone who listened to him and gave him advice. Someone who calmed him down.

Nick still feared that Juliette had been kidnapped by the Cracher-Mortal. True, it's been a week now since he heard the painful scream and gave in to Eric, but didn't the Royal take him on a journey with him after he was trapped and stored in the coffin for two months? Was it also possible that now also Juliette was in another coffin and flying across the world, unconscious and pregnant?

There was something else Nick noticed over the past few days: something inside him was changing. Now and then he found himself sticking in the middle of so deep an anger he'd never even thought to exist. He didn't have an explanation for what was going on with him, and so far he didn't trust Christian enough to tell him. Christian, this little guy with the big eyes, always nervous and ready to leave as fast as possible. And the same Christian was also Nick's only hope to flee.

"The premiere is next week," the voice with the French accent told him now. "I have to check with my contacts there and I also have to tell the one you will take with you. But ... do you have a problem with this?"

Nick swallowed and smiled a sad smile.

One week until he was supposed to flee together with someone he didn't know in the middle of a country he had never been to, the language of which he was incapable of speaking or understanding.

"Is she able to speak German?" he asked.

"She can. She's living here for a year," Christian answered. "I will tell you the details later, including a way out of Vienna. Sean has ordered two plane tickets from Milan airport Malpensa. Destination is Marrakesh."

What the hell was he going to do in Marrakesh?

"It is necessary," Christian continued. "We cannot fly either of you two out of Europe from Austria, Germany or France. It will be dangerous enough on your flight to the States when you stop in Great Britain."

Nick's mood sank down again.

All this sounded so complicated, and with the problem of not understanding the languages here these problems seemed to grow to the size of mountains.

"The only other way I would see would be from Brussels," Christian said. "And I have no idea how to bring you two from this side to the other side of the Alps at all."

"I understand," Nick said.

"Your partner is pregnant, never forget that. She's tough, true, but she carries a child."

His throat seemed to shut down for a moment. He couldn't breathe.

Pregnant, like Juliette. And Juliette was probably on her own now, maybe already abducted and on her way to Eric's castle.

Nick put the small remains of the sandwich back on the dish. "Have you heard anything from Portland?" he asked hesitately.

Christian was silent for a moment, and Nick wished he could see more of the small guy on the other side of the door than the small part of his face as he peeked into the cell.

"She's safe," Christian told him. "I told you I've spoken with Sean. Your fiancee and the baby are both well and eagerly await your return."

"Did you speak to her?" Nick wanted to know.

Again there was for a moment silence on the other side of the door. "I did speak with her, yes." the little man then answered. "As I have already told you, she's waiting for your return. She never gave up hope that you would find your way back to her."

A sad smile grew on Nick's lips.

How deeply he wished to be back at their house again. He really couldn't find words for this ...

"Do you want to talk to her?" Christian asked.

Nick froze.

Speaking with Juliette? Now?

"I can get Sean to set up a time, maybe tomorrow evening? It's the best time then I think," Christian said.

Listening to Juliette's voice would feel like a bath in crystal clear water, Nick decided. It would feel so good that he really wished he could take his own cellphone and call her right now. But Christian was right, Juliette was half a world away, and he didn't have a cellphone anymore. They both needed help to set up a simple call.

"I would appreciate that," Nick said. "I miss her."

"I will see what I can do," Christian told him. "And I hope you don't mind me when I go now. The cousins should be back soon."

Nick sighed.

Alone again ...

"Alright," he said. "We meet again tomorrow?"

Maybe then with the chance to talk to Juliette?

"I will see what I can do," Christian answered and opened the little window in the door. "The dish please."

Nick nodded and gave it to him. Christian frowned when he noticed that half of the second sandwich was still on the dish but he didn't mentioned it.

"See you tomorrow," Nick said and tried a bitter smile. "And ... watch your back!"

Christian smiled back. "Will do. Be careful, Grimm."

"Nick. My name is Nick," he corrected.

And Christian's smile grew. "Goodnight, Nick."


	4. Long missed Voices

**A/N:** Huge special thanks again to _Merlyn Pyndragon_ for her awesome work as beta!

* * *

Again they had met at the Spice Shop. All of them excluding Hank.

Wu was sitting on the divan, sipping a cup of coffee as he observed the others. Renard, leaning on the door frame to the back room, deeply lost in his own mind. Juliette, standing at the table, studied one of the books she brought with her. They looked a bit like the ones from Nick's trailer but with different sketches. The handwriting and style were unlike anything she had ever seen at Nick's trailer.

Monroe came up to Rosalee, holding another cup in his hands. She smiled at him. She felt warm, loved and secure with the not-so-big and not-so-bad Blutbad around her. Monroe was someone she could trust completely. And it was impossible for her only to even think about losing him.

"You sure you want to be part of this?" he asked, looking worried.

Rosalee nodded, still smiling. "We started this together, we will work this out together."

The reason why he asked was something personal between the two of them. Monroe was ready to do anything to help Nick. She wasn't so sure about herself. True, she wanted to help, no mistake. She missed Nick. But she also never was as close to the Grimm as Monroe was. And she had other experiences during her life. She knew what they would have to deal with if they were to really try to get Nick back into the US.

"Why this meeting?" Wu finally asked.

Rosalee looked around, realizing that they were on their own. Hank was still in custudy, and even if not, he wouldn't come. She went to see him yesterday and he disagreed to leave his cell at all.

Nick was still missing, Rosalee thought. He and Hank, those two she was missing.

"Well, you are right, we should start, I think," Renard said, looking around, awaiting whatever would happen next.

Rosalee exchanged a look with Monroe.

She didn't feel like she should start. She didn't had any news.

Wu looked to Juliette, who still was reading in the new books. "What are you reading?"

Juliette looked up. "These are books from my uncle," she answered with a smile. "I took them with me yesterday. My mother had them stored in the attic."

"So, you have now your own inheritance?" Renard asked.

Juliette and Monroe exchanged a look.

"Uncle Norman is alive," she said.

Renard stared at her. "Alive? Is he a Grimm?"

"He is," Monroe answered. "And, if you ask me, he has a little problem with his odor. I mean Nick's nasty, Juliette doesn't smell like a bunch of flowers anymore. But that guy? My God" The Blutbad rolled his eyes.

"We took the books and weapons with us because they are part of my uncle's heritage, but they're also part of mine. But I have a trailer full of all those nice things, he only stored his in one trunk."

Rosalee sighed.

It had taken Monroe and Juliette until midnight before they finally got back to Portland. And then Juliette was too excited about what she found out, and too angry at her mother, to wind down enough to sleep.

"Hank's still in custody," Renard told them all. "I can't get anywhere near him to talk to him about what happened."

"You still have issues with your memories?" Rosalee asked.

That was a problem she was likely able to fix. She had to look through her books, though.

Renard nodded. "According to the doctor I had a very mild concussion, and it is possible that I will never recall what happened at all."

"Lucky hit," Monroe muttered.

"I didn't expect it. Nothing more than lucky, that's our guy." Renard nodded.

"But we need Hank to exclude him from the murder!" Wu said.

"I know that. Unfortunately the one now in charge of the second precinct disagrees with me. By the way, he's one of my cousins. And he's a very dangerous man. Better you all keep that in mind." Renard sighed. "I might need a little help from the second precinct, Unfortunately this is a precinct I never got too close to."

"Oh, I already told you about Rico," Wu said.

Renard nodded. "You did. But I fear Sergeant Gonzales and I don't speak the same language."

Rosalee smirked a little. It felt weird to have Renard here, at her Spice Shop. Not bad but weird. Renard didn't belong here, as he was part Royal. But the part with the humour she would love to call a friend.

Wu shrugged. "Well, maybe I should try my luck. Rico already knows me and that I don't come easily with personal demands."

"Fine. But be careful!" Renard warned.

Juliette closed the book she was reading in and looked up. "I am going to leave Portland," she said.

For a split second the room was in complete silence.

"You are doing what?" Renard asked, looking in the same derection.

Juliette nodded. "I'm going to search for my uncle. I think he has a few answers we don't," she answered. "I have no idea how Norman handled the situation. From what I remember I think it's best I go alone."

"No," Rosalee said. "Remember that Eric had sent someone to get you, in best case ..."

"Someone really should go with you." Renard nodded. "Eric is a dangerous man. And if my dear cousin was only as intelligent as Eric's finger, that man could become dangerous too."

"I cannot stay! I need some more answers!" Juliette insisted. "I've already tested my DNA, and I tested Nick's genes. There are differences between us and a normal human being. But I need more information about what it really means to be a Grimm! I doubt it's only about killing Wesen. That's simply not enough!"

Rosalee smiled a little sad. She didn't want to lose another friend, especially not Juliette, right now. Juliette was looking lost, she'd noticed over the past week. The new ability, the Grimm inside her, was driring her crazy.

"I'm not letting you go away on your own," Renard said.

"Me neither!" Wu said. "Juliette, think about it for a second. You're pregnant you need to take care of both of you. And we already saw what can happen a week ago."

Juliette looked down at the book.

"And if one of us is going with her?" Monroe asked. "I'm on your side, Juliette, I think you need those answers."

"Who should go with her?" Renard asked. "We need to stay together as long as this situation lasts."

"You are talking about your cousin, right?" Rosalee asked. She looked thoughtfully at the half-Royal and nodded. "I've heard the name Viktor Renard before. It's been a while and he's surely not a primary threat, but he's dangerous. I'm with you."

"He knows how to make others work for him," Renard agreed. "And the moment he finds out that there's another Grimm in Portland ..."

Juliette looked up again, nostrils flared. "What then?" she asked. "Are Grimm supposed to be the property of the Royals? If so I've found nothing about it in Nick's trailer. Someone should teach the Royals a lesson in history!"

"I'm going with you," Rosalee said.

Once more there was nothing but silence.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Rosi," Monroe said.

"Why not? If this Norman is as spooked at us as you think, I'm a way better example to calm him down. And I know how to fight."

Renard's cellphone started to ring. "Excuse me for a second," he said after he checked the number and vanished into the shop area.

"Do you really want to come with me?" Juliette asked.

Rosalee thought about this for a moment.

She had reacted spontaneously when she said she wanted to join Juliette. And now, after she thought about it ... Juliette was a friend, a closer friend than Nick. She liked her and wanted to help her get through this and the pregnancy, and hopefully also the reunite her with Nick one day. She knew Juliette needed nothing more than company right now. She was still new to all the Wesen stuff, no matter how many books she had read at Nick's trailer over the past few months. Seeing drawings and seeing the real thing was a huge difference.

Renard returned to the back room. "I have a surprise for you all," he said with a relieved smile. He held another cellphone in his hand now and touched the screen. "Give it to him," he said. And a moment later the dearly missed, dark voice said: "Hello?"

Nick!

For another second silence set in, in the next moment they all started to speak at once.

"Oh my God! It's you!"

"Nick, we miss you!"

"How are you?"

"Hey, I need the money for coffee from the past two months, young man."

"Nick, it's so good to hear your voice."

"Stop!" Renard ordered. "We don't have much time for this. Nick, are you still there?"

"Yes, sir. Did I just hear Wu?" Nick's voice answered.

"Yeah, I'm fine again. Thanks for asking. You owe me money for the coffee," the sergeant answered.

A mixture between a giggle and a sob came through the line. "It could take a while before I can pay you."

"Oh, that's fine with me. Just taking your paycheck over at one point. Thought I should warn you," Wu said.

This time it was really a laughter that came through the line.

"Hey man, how are you doing?" Monroe asked.

"Better now. Thanks. How are you?"

Rosalee felt Monroe's arm around her shoulders. "We are going to get married, Monroe and I!" she exclaimed.

"Really? That's ... wow!"

"Yeah, but we can't. I need my best man, man," Monroe said.

Silence, only broken by an exhaling.

"But I think the most important news is awaiting you now," Renard said, handling the cellphone over to Juliette. "If you want to talk to him in private ..."

She nodded and turned around. Ending the speaker line she pressed the phone to her ear.

Rosalee watched her with a worried smile.

She couldn't even imagine the emotions both of them were going through right now. It must be hell for them, especially if Nick knew about Juliette being pregnant.

"Yes. Yes, that is true," Juliette said now. So, it was still the news of the day.

"How did you ... ?" Wu asked.

Renard, arms folded before his chest and looking at Juliette's back, shrugged. "I wish it was my idea but fact is, it was the one working for me at my brother's castle. He thinks this is helpful to Nick, and I agree with him."

Rosalee nodded and leaned close to Monroe. "It is," she whispered. "Now the wound can start to heal ..."

* * *

"This is for you. But ... hurry." Christian gave him a cellphone through the little opening.

Nick stared at it for a second, trying to prepare himself before he finally held it to his ear and said, "Hello?"

The next moment hell seemed to break loose when five or six different voices started talking at the same time.

Nick, after he jumped a little in surprise, held the phone hard to his ear. He started shaking from the inside out after he recognized the voices.

The captain, Wu, Monroe, Rosalee and ... Juliette!

Tears were burning in his eyes and his fingers clamped to the cellphone.

All his friends, they were all together. Juliette wasn't alone with the child. She wasn't!

"Stop!" He heard Renard barking this order, and silence set in.

It felt so good to hear their voices! He could close his eyes and imagine he was there. Probably at Juliette's house, or at Monroe's or in the Spice Shop. Maybe Renard invited them into his apartment?

"Nick, are you still there?" Renard's voice sounded unusually warm and friendly, but also felt right in this moment.

"Yes, sir," Nick answered, trying to keep the power over his voice. "Did I just hear Wu?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking," the snarky officer said.

Why was Wu with the others but he couldn't hear Hank? Where was Hank?

Nick recalled what he was able to remember from the night at the container yard, just to make sure he hadn't missed something. But Hank hadn't been there. He had told him before that he had an appointment at the hospital taking off the cast. So, why wasn't his partner with the others now?

"You owe me money for the coffee," Wu explained.

And Nick was so relieved and happy at the same time, a noise, half whimper half laughter, left his throat.

"It could take a while before I can pay you," Nick returned the joke while tears ran down his cheeks.

So much had happened. He was tortured, poisoned, probably close to death during the past few weeks, he had never felt so lonely since the first time after he regained conscious as a prisoner. To hear them now, the oh-so-familiar voices of his friends and coworkers, healed a tiny little bit of the wound in his soul, but his heart was still bleeding.

"Oh, that's fine with me. Just taking your paycheck over at one point. Thought I should warn you," Wu said.

Nick laughed a little, eyes still closed.

It felt so normal, so right, to talk to them, no matter how much time and space was between them.

"Hey, man, how are you doing?" Monroe's voice asked.

"Better now. Thanks. How are you?" Nick answered.

Monroe, this great guy he stumbled into back when his Grimm awoke. The best friend he ever had all his life. It had taken him a while to realize this.

"We are going to get married, Monroe and I!" Rosalee's voice screamed in his ear.

Nick's heart ran over with love and friendship.

Monroe, this weird loner and clock worker, and Rosalee, the clever Fuchsbau. He knew it from the moment they met after Rosalee's brother was killed! He knew they were made for each other.

"Really? That's ... wow!" Nick stuttered a little.

Somehow he still had hoped he would marry Juliette first, or, maybe, they would plan their weddings together. But he was really happy for Monroe and Rosalee. He really was!

"Yeah, but we can't. I need my best man, man," Monroe told him.

And that was something Nick never had expected! Something that made him freeze for a moment, trying to regain the control over his body and mind.

He whispered a soundless, "Thank you" but he was sure no one had hear him, as his whispering mixed with Renard's voice, telling him, "But I think the most important news is awaiting you now."

Nick started to shiver again.

Juliette? He thought he would have heard her along with the others but suddenly he wasn't sure. All the sorrows during the last week came back to him, trying to hold him down.

"Nick?" The voice of an angel. His angel.

He had to lean against the wall, otherwise his legs wouldn't be able anymore to do their job.

"Juliette," he whispered. "Oh my God, Juliette! Is it really you? Are you free? Did the Cracher-Mortal hurt you?" He hesitated before he asked the last question. "Is it true? Are you carrying our child?"

"Yes. Yes, it is true," Juliette answered. "And, Nick, this is wonderful! I never thought I could but ... it's wonderful! Don't you think?"

He would be a father. He was a father.

He felt the tears running from his eyes. But it was okay. These tears were tears of joy now. Worried but also happy.

"It's a miracle," he whispered.

"And, Nick, there's more," Juliette said. "Something happened to me."

Alarmed, he lifted his head. "Did the Cracher-Mortal do something? Did he spit at you? Juliette, if you're hurt ..."

"I am a Grimm too now," she interrupted him. "Nick, the child, our child, will be a full-blood."

A Grimm? Juliette a Grimm?

Her shooting skills, the way she was able to analyze others, how good she was when he taughed her a little hand-to-hand combat. All this and much more sprang suddenly to his mind.

He knew it! Somewhere deep inside himself he knew it since his own Grimm awoke, maybe before. He knew they were more than only kindred spirits.

"Nick? Are you still there?" she asked.

"I am," Nick answered. "But ... since when did you know this?"  
"Since last week," came the answer. "Nick, Monroe and I were at my mother's and we found out that my uncle Norman is most likely is a Grimm. He stored stuff in the attic of my parents' house. And in one of the old journals there was something about Grimm and how they could lock their powers."

Nick frowned. "Juliette, don't do anything stupid, do you hear me? You have to stick to the others. Go nowhere alone. This is dangerous! If Eric doesn't know about you being a Grimm, he will find out soon, believe me. And you don't want to have to deal with him!"

"Rosalee will help me find my uncle. Maybe he knows more," Juliette explained. "Nick, please trust me in this. I know what I'm capable of."

He knew, she didn't have to mention that. The only other person in his life he would have the same respect for was Monroe.

"Always stick to Rosalee then," he said. "And be careful, very careful."

"I will. And we will bring you home, Nick. Every child needs its father."

He laughed again. "And, please, can you explain to me why Wu is with you?"

"Because he knows now," Juliette answered.

"It's time," Christian's voice said.

Nick's heart was about to break but he knew he had already used too much time.

"We have to stop now," he said to Juliette. "I love you, Juliette. I love you so much!"

"And I love you. Be careful yourself, Nick. I want you back in one piece."

He ended the call, feeling both sadness and lightness at the same time when he handed the cellphone back.

Chrisitan smiled at him. "Now you know," he said.

And Nick nodded. "Now I know ..."

* * *

**Four Days later:**

After Wu entered the coffee shop he had to look around to find the person he was after.

Damn, this place was full of people! It was nearly impossible to pick one out of the crowd. It didn't really help to know the one he wanted to meet wore a uniform as he did. There were several cops all around, at the counter, here and there in the room ...

Wu looked more carefully. and eventually he got lucky and found his target. Pushing himself through the crowd was the next challenge, and it wasn't as easy to reach the person as it was finding him.

"Morning," he greeted and leaned next to the other man.

Rico Gonzales turned his head and looked at him. "What a surprise! Wu, what are you doing here?"

"Maybe I want to try the coffee here," Wu said coolly.

Gonzales looked at him closely and shook his head. "Na, you don't. There's something else you are up to. Don't forget, I know you from the inside out!"

Too true.

Gonzales put the newspaper he was reading on the counter. "What do you want?" he asked.

"To talk to Hank Griffin," Wu answered openly.

"Not possible. You should stay out of that case, Wu," Gonzales turned around again, looking at the newspaper.

"Because your new boss doesn't want to?" Wu pressed.

Gonzales gave him a stare. "As if I would give a damn about what that guy wants!"

This was enlightening news for Wu. "Is that so?"

Gonzales shrugged and put the newspaper aside. A man next to him took it and flipped to the sports section.

"Hank's a good guy," Wu said. "He's only ... he thinks he's responsible for the disappearance of his partner, you know? He can't handle it."

Gonzales frowned. "That's the reason why Burkhardt hasn't been found yet?"

Wu shook his head. "He's been sort of taken hostage. Still alive, but ... ya know how that goes for detectives. They are pretty close to their partners."

This obviously worked on Gonzales, who stared first into thin air and started to nod thoughtfully. "Was Griffin responsible?"

"Nope, he was at the hospital when Burkhardt went missing. You remember that mess at the container yard two months ago?" He shrugged. "Now you know."

"Heck, I remember! Was grateful that we only had to deal with a little aftermath. You guys got the brunt of it, right? Was wondering why the feds didn't take over. Heard some of the perps weren't citizens?"

"That was our captain. We had to deal with the FBI last year, didn't go too well. This time he managed to keep them out," Wu explained. "But, look, that's why I need to talk to Hank. He'd listened to the wrong people but he's a damn good cop. I don't want to see him leave the force or go to jail for something he didn't commited."

Gonzales blinked. "Good luck with that. The gun we found in Griffin's hand is the murder weapon. And that was the only gun in the bathroom, no chance to hide, no chance of making it disappear. Not in the time we responded to the call."

"The vic is the brother of Hank's girlfriend," Wu told his friend. "Do you really want to kill the soon-to-be in-laws instead of first trying of make friends?"  
Gonzales frowned again. "The vic's sister is Griffin's girlfriend?" he repeated.

Wu nodded. "And I need to talk to both. There's something going on you don't understand. But if we don't find out what really happened in that motel room, an innocent man will be charged, and probably more things will happen we don't want in Portland."

Gonzales thinned his lips. "I don't know ..." he mumbled.

"I'm not coming to you easily, Rico, you know that. And I don't want to pull out the photo ..."

Gonzales stared at him. "You still have it?" he asked.

Wu grinned. "Best evidence ever. Why I should get rid of it?"  
"You promised! I'm screwed if anybody finds out! Wu!" Gonzales gulped. "Don't do that!"

"Don't make me use it. All I want are five minutes with Hank."

Gonzales stared at him, and Wu smiled back.

Sometimes, he thought, he missed his job. Maybe he should have become a criminal mastermind like those super-villains in the comic books. That would have been really cool. But he choose this, the law, and, well, a quiet life in Portland wasn't too bad anyway.

"You're evil!" Gonzales snarled. He sighed, long and deep. "I'll see what I can do." With that he stood up and went to leave.

"Give me a call then. And thanks, Rico. You're the best." Wu smiled.

The stare he got told him the complete opposite but Gonzales nodded. "And we'll have to have some serious words about that photo afterwards." With that, Gonzales left.

* * *

Christian came out of the elevator and stopped when he saw the door to Adalind's suite stood open wide.

"Damn it!" he cursed, and ran the ten steps down the floor to stop at the door framce, looking inside.

A housemaid was cleaning the room. A room bare all the personal items Adalind had stored there, which weren't that many at all but enough to show a little presence.

Gone!

Christian cursed himself and stepped into the room, still looking around.

No sign of Adalind. And that was possibly the worst news he could collect!

"Can I help you?" the maid asked after she noticed him.

Christian turned to her and nodded. "Yes. Do you know what happened to Miss Schade? She was staying here."

The woman looked at him, surprised. "She moved out this morning. Her aunt took her with her," she answered. "The aunt was staying with Miss Schade during the last couple of weeks. Not the most pleasant person."

Christian's heart sank.

He lost one of the targets! He hadn't paid much attention ro Adalind after he found the Grimm, because she already knew her role in the plan. Nick not only needed to learn the plan but was also in need of having someone around. So, instead of watching over both, Christian had let Adalind slip through his fingers. And one of the other parties got hold of her.

"Did you know her well?" the maid asked.

Christian blinked and nodded without thinking too much about it. "Yeah, I think I was the closest friend she had here. Unfortunately I couldn't check on her for the past few days ..."

Who was this mysterious aunt? Maybe he could find out which party got Adalind if he would found out who took her.

The maid pulled an envelope out of a pocket of her skirt. "Maybe this is for you then?" she asked. "Are you Christian?"

He startled and nodded again. "Yeah, that's me." Taking the envelope he inhaled deeply.

Hopefully Adlaind was clever enough to tell him who was here with her. Hopefully he had something he could work with.

He left the suite, opening the envelope. The two tickets he brought her were inside, and a short note, saying:

"I'm sorry but I have to go with her. I signed a contract with her first, and this contract is binding. Wish there was another way ... Adalind."

Christian stopped and thought all of the information he had collected before finally going to Adalind. Then he put the envelope with the tickets and the note in a pocket and pulled out his cellphone. Dialing a number he went back to the evelator.

"It's me," he said after he heard a voice. "I'll at your place in ten minutes. Be prepared! We are starting a war."


	5. Search & Rescue

**A/N:** Thanks for all the favs and follows :)! And a very special thank again to _MerlynPyndragon_ for her great work as a beta!

* * *

"That is what I was talking about!" Eric looked at him with a big grin on his face and opened his arms. "See? Exactly the color I had in mind for you."

Nick did his best to keep his face stony. He didn't feel well, especially now with the tailor fussing all around him, pulling here, pushing there. The jacket was nothing more than a vest now, the vest nothing more than a piece of clothe. The white shirt was actually ready but so bright Nick feared he would dirty it just by looking at it.

"This may very well bust the premiere!" Eric seemed excited about his own suspicion. "La Traviata bombed by a Grimm. Would be a premiere itself. Do you like opera?"

The tailor, a small man Nick suspected to be a Maushertz or maybe a rabbit-like Wesen he'd never seen before, seemed pretty scared. Because of Eric or because there was a Grimm in the room, or maybe both, Nick couldn't decide. But the man was near panic.

"Never been to," Nick said, as polite as possible. "I fear I'm too much an ordinary guy for this."

Eric pulled a face. "What a shame! Well, you will learn to love the opera. I usually never let any show slip. But I prefer Mozart."

"Well, they are all dead guys, as far as I know ..." Nick shrugged. One of the pins the tailor had used pricked his shoulder.

"_Verzeihen Sie bitte, mein Herr._" The tailor lowered his head.

"No problem," Nick answered.

"Maybe I should give you some information about this specific show," Eric said thoughtfully. "Could help you figure out if you like it or not. Actually, La Traviata is a pretty good starter if you ask me ..."

"Not that I would choose that!" Nick muttered.

Eric turned around again, staring at him. "You should care, my dear Grimm. You definitely should! I'm a regular at the Erstes Haus am Platz."

Not that Nick really cared about that. But he'd never been to Vienna, he didn't know the opera house.

The tailor stepped aside, looking over Nick carefully.

"I will send you a little material you can work with. Who knows, maybe you will enjoy the premiere," Eric told him.

"Too kind of you. But I'm more interested in someone else," Nick said, watching the Royal with some interest.

Eric didn't move a muscle. If he really knew the plan failed, wouldn't there be something in his face?

"She will be here soon, my dear Grimm, don't worry!"

Nick tried his best to continue to keep his stony face.

Eric didn't have a clue that he knew Juliette was still free! And that was something he could really enjoy right now. It was the first time Nick felt like he was a little ahead of the the Royal since he awoke here at the castle.

The tailor plucked at the jacket.

"Are you done?" Nick wanted to know.

The little man nodded, looking like he would faint any second.

Nick smiled as friendly as he could, and was slipping out of the jacket when there was a knock at the door.

"Come on in," Eric ordered after he looked at his watch. "My secretary. The sooner you two meet, the better for the teamwork between you. With the time I want you to plan the security for me yourself, my dear Grimm," Eric explained and turned around. "But this is not my secretary ... Who are you?"

An older and bald man, who had just entered the room, lowered his head. "Your highness, I fear I don't have good news. Christian just called in sick."

Nick frowned.

Wait a minute! Christian? The same Christian who came up every evening for half an hour, giving him a little food and talking to him, letting him make the call to the States?

If so this was probably the best position for a spy anybody could dream of, he decided. Except wife or lover Christian would really be in the perfect position. There was not much space any closer to Eric.

"Called in sick? He lives here!" Eric said.

"He drove to the hospital, your Highness," the stranger said.

Sick?

Nick hoped this out-of-the-blue sickness would not affect the plan or the escape. If so he was screwed. Because he didn't know his soon-to-be companion or any further plans, and he didn't have the tickets they needed for the flight to Marrakesh. They were both probably screwed then ...

"That is really unfortunate," Eric said.

"I'm sorry, your highness," the man repeated, lowering his head again.

What if Christian had changed his mind? Nick asked himself. What if Christian didn't come back at all? What then?

"That is a bit ... disappointing," Eric said. Lifting his chin he looked at the stranger like a scientist at a new insect. "Well, I'm sure Christian will be fine ..."

Again here was this little timbre in his voice, the warning not to go any further.

Nick knew this point of Eric very well now. At least, he hoped he knew the most porminent triggers that put the Royal into a rage.

"Well, maybe he will be back later." Eric still sounded too enthusiastic about the absence of his secretary. "Did he tell you which hospital he wanted to go to?"

"I fear not," the bald man answered.

Eric shrugged. "Well ... I fear this meeting is postponed, my dear new employee." He turned around to Nick, looking at him.

"Too bad. I was looking forward to it," Nick answered.

"We will find another topic to discuss. There are still plenty of things you have to learn."

The bald man looked up, not sure if he could go or not.

Eric frowned, blinked and turned to the stranger again. "Don't you have work to do?" he asked.

"Of course, your highness, of course," the man said. Bowing and stepping backwards to the door again, he left the room.

"Pretty impressive, huh?" Nick couldn't avoid to ask.

"Pretty useless," Eric answered, turning back to him. "Now, where were we?"

* * *

Christian pulled over and stopped only long enough for his new companion to jump into the car before he accelerated back onto the street.

"You really look ready to start a war!" the passenger said in a heavy German accent, fastening the belt. "What happened?"

"I lost her and the baby," Christian answered.

The man to his right hand whistled. Rubbing his unshaved face he looked out of the side window. "I bet no one is too happy about that."

"I know where she is," Christian said, changing lanes to leave the city. "You could have watched over her while I was busy, you know?"

"I was busy," his passenger answered.

"With what? Spying on one of the others? I told you who the only person is who really matters to us." Christian changed lanes again.

The passenger pulled a face. "Well, we will fix that, okay? It's not like we wouldn't do anything."

Christian took a deep breath and bit his lips.

He had told Sean several times that it was wrong to bring Meisner into the inner circle. But Sean was absolutely sure they needed the Swiss. What he needed him for he never shared with anyone.

"What do we know? You said you knew where to find her?" Meisner asked.

Christian nodded. "At first she made negotiations with the Schwarzwald-Roma. Do you know about them?"

Meisner shook his head. "No."

Christian wasn't too thrilled about this statement either. "They are gypsies. Like the Walachei Sinti. Both tribes departed a while ago. The Schwarzwald-Roma are nearby, and they are dealing with the Royal families."

Meisner sent him a stare. "You mean they are spying for them?"

Again Christian shook his head. "They are trading for the Royals, that's what they do. I couldn't find out who but I know the Roma Queen Stefania Popescu made negotiations about the unborn. That was one of the leads I had for to find the soon-to-be mother. Looks like she already had signed a contract."

"That's not good," Meisner said.

"It's fixable, even if it is sealed with blood. There are possibilities. But they have taken her away," Christian ended his report.

"The mother of the child? What about the child? Is it safe?"

"She's still pregnant."

As soon as they passed the City sign Christian stepped on the gas pedal again, speeding up the Mercedes.

"Wow! I thought we should arrive there in one piece!" Meisner laughed.

Christian gave him another look, tightening his fingers around the steering wheel.

"And now you want to bring her back, I suppose," Meisner asked after a while.

Christian nodded. Looking in the driver side mirror he checked once more if another vehicle was following them. "And we don't have plenty of time. The premiere is tomorrow night."

"Premiere of what?" Meisner blinked, confused.

"La Traviata, the new season will open with this opera," Christian answered.

"And we care about that why?"

"Because the escape-plan needed a set up. And this set up is the opera."

Meisner lifted his eyebrows. "I don't want to swap places with them. I hate the opera!"

"Well, we are more about to start a battle inside the Renard family. Whoever is paying Stefania is an insider. And we will definitely piss this someone off with getting Adalind back."

Hopefully they would have the chance to free her ...

"If you brought the weapons, I'm all in." Meisner grinned.

Christian gritted his teeth. Of course he was ...

* * *

Monroe was worried and tired. But mostly worried. He hadn't slept last night and now he was watching both women, Rosalee and Juliette, packing some things for their journey. And his heart was aching simply thinking of letting them go.

Sure, Juliette had to find another of her kind. He got it. She somehow had to learn more than only the essentials, and no one, not him or Rosalee or Renard or anybody else, could really train a Grimm. He tried with Nick, and had to face the fact that he probably failed after Nick was kidnapped.

But Rosalee? Rosalee should stay here. She should run the Spice Shop, plan the wedding, run with him at night, be by his side.

If one of the two women asked him now, Monroe was sure he never would have packed his bag faster. He felt responsible for Juliette, he feared to lose Rosalee if he let her go now.

What could he do now? Rosalee took his word that he would stay here, be the Obi-Blutbad for Wu to teach him right – and finally come to a conclusion what was wrong with him. And he always had been known for sticking to his word.

But he couldn't really let them go! Not on their own! He would never be able to forgive himself if something happened to them.

"You okay?" Juliette asked, head tilted and a worried look in her eyes after she closed the fridge.

He would grab some groceries first after they were gone, Monroe made a note. Or he would follow them with his old WV Beetle ...

He nodded, still looking worried.

"You sure? You look like your mother just passed or something ..." Juliette lifted an eyebrow.

Rosalee, who came back from putting the food into Nick's truck, looked at him with a little smile. "You have to understand, this is important! For her, but also for us."

He knew that. Well, his brain knew that. But that didn't keep his heart from bleeding ...

"Everything will be okay," said Rosalee, embracing him from the side. "We will probably be back in a couple of days, who knows?"

"Could be if my suspicion is right," Juliette agreed.

But in two days a lot could happen. A Grimm on a rampage could kill Rosalee, taking Juliette hostage or try to brainwash her ...

"I know," Monroe finally mumbled.

Rosalee squeezed him a little and kissed his stubbled cheek. "Don't worry! We will be careful," she promised.

Well, in this world you could fall out of the bed in your sleep and die from a broken neck. So, anyything could happen to Rosalee. And, of course, to Juliette.

Monroe couldn't help himself. Over the last eight years he'd lived on his own after he broke up with Angelina. He never spent a second thought of the question of whether there was the perfect match for him beyond his living room window. He had been sure he would die alone one day, and the only ones grieving for him would be some of his costumers.

But then Nick happened to him, this weird little Grimm with the huge puppy eyes who dragged him into the world outside his front door again. And in that time Monroe realized that he'd finally found a new crowd to hang out with, a new pack, a new sort of family. And when Rosalee saved his life with a brick and decided to stay here to fill in for her murdered brother, and Nick slowly grew into his role as a Grimm, and all the drama with Juliette and ...

That night at the container yard was where it had ended and begun again. Both he and Rosalee, hurt and maybe a little weird, had decided months ago to keep it simple, to give their relationship time, a lot of time. They had just entered a new stage that night before the zombies attacked Portland and Nick was abducted. And that night in the container yard, fighting those people, watching some of them die, running out of treatment, having the newbie Juliette with them ...

Monroe remembered the zombie that had come after Rosalee as he was attacked by three others. He'd tried to warn her, tried to get to her. And he saw the weapon in the hand of the zombified man. Later they found out that he was from Kansas City and worked there as a security guard. But that night he wasn't protecting something, he only was out on a rampage, he was ready to kill, and he tried ...

"We will be back as quickly as possible," Juliette told him again and smiled up to him.

Monroe tried a smile himself, sure that he failed because he was once more in the container yard, back on that night last May, attacked by three zombies himself, one of them a Blutbad, and he saw the security guard aiming at Rosalee and pulling the trigger -

Rosalee came up to him, looking worried now. She knew, he was sure. There was this little connection between them. They knew what the other was thinking of.

Seeing that zombie firing at Rosalee changed the world a second time for Monroe. And it did for her. They both realized that time was the thing theu couldn't change or stop. Everything was possible, and both of them were mortal. That was the moment Monroe decided to make his proposal to Rosalee. And she told him afterwards it was also the moment for her, when she decided that she needed him at her side, that she wasn't able to let him go.

One moment, one bullet, missed the target but was close enough to remind them on their mortality. It had changed their relationship, had pushed them forward, had turned them from close friends to something more ...

"I will call you every day," Rosalee told him now. Her voice pulled him back from his memories, put him on his feet again.

Monroe feared nothing more than losing her. He'd found his soulmate, finally! He had made so many mistakes in his life, sometimes for a feeling he mistook for love. But the real thing, the true love, he first experienced with Angelina. And she was that kind of girl who brought him into trouble, something he didn't want in his life anymore after what happened in Moonshine, when he was visiting his parents, still with Angelina. No one knew about this, no one knew why he changed, stepped back from the wild times and into the church, becoming a Wider. No one, except Angelina. And Angelina couldn't understand why this was such a big deal for him.

Rosalee could. She knew about what happened back then, ten years ago. He'd told her, as she told him about the time she was a drug addict and ended up in prison. If anyone else had found out he would have been gone to prison too, and maybe he would have ended up on death row ...

Rosalee understood. She understood him better than anybody else. So he told her, secrets he never shared with anybody else, not even with his parents, and surely not Nick.

Now Rosalee stood right before him, looking up to him, smiling. And she leaned forward and kissed him softly, oh so soft!

"It'll be okay," she whispered. "I will be back soon."

Monroe nodded, mouth shut. He was sure if he opened his lips he would begin to howl like a wolf, the wolf he was in his soul.

Rosalee smiled and touched his cheek. "It will be over soon – everything! Nick will be back and we can finally plan the wedding. What do you think? Should we ask for a double feature then? Maybe Nick wants you to be his best man!"

That would be fun! It would be fun having Grimm at their wedding. Monroe started to smile just thinking about it. His parents would think he was crazy, having a Grimm as his best man. And with Juliette now, whom Rosalee wanted as her bridesmaid ...

"See you, my big lovely wolf," Rosalee said, kissing him again before she turned and left the house.

Monroe saw her jumping into Nick's truck. Juliette was already behind the steering wheel and started the engine now.

Monroe watched them leave, and he had a bad feeling about this ...

* * *

Christian stalked through the woods, trying to avoid every moise he could make. Meisner behind him was loud enough. His heavy boots crushed every single branch in their way and Christian started wondering if the gypsies were all deaf, not to hear these noises from the woods.

He could see their camp site. A huge bonfire burned in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by half a dozen trailers. Surprisingly modern trailers and trucks. People were standing near the fire, drinking beer and chatting, or walking around.

Christian's attention was drawn to a tent, a little aside from the trailers, with a satellite dish at the far end.

"What's that?" Meisner asked, nodding in the direction of the tent.

Christian glanced at him with the question on his face, to see if Meisner really was serious about the question before he answered.

"My bet: that's Stefania's."

Meisner lifted his eyebrows. "A tent?"

"Why not? She's probably the mightiest Hexenbiest on this earth, and she's the leader of an entire tribe of people. She can act as eccentric as she likes. No one will openly criticize her for her lifestyle." Christian looked around, trying to lift the darkness of the night in the woods in the hope of finding out if they were already been noticed and were being stalked by gypsies.

"And what now?" Meisner asked.

Good question. Christian did not really know what to do. They had to make sure Adalind was here, but he had no idea how without giving up their hideout in the woods.

"We have to find out where she is," Christian answered hesitately.

"And how do we manage that? I don't know if you've noticed, but these guys seem to know each other pretty well. We cannot simply stroll into their camp and say hi and ask where they've hidden a pregnant woman and former Hexenbiest."

Something made Christian's stomach ache. Something he missed. Something that probably could change everything.

He never found out why Adalind went to the gypsies, he realized. There must have been a reason why she wanted to trade her baby. And this reason he hadn't found out so far. But it could be important in this situation. It could be the solution he was seeking.

"What do you think?" Meisner asked.

Christian stared at the tent, trying to make out something. There were some really bright lights in there, and he could make out the silhouettes of those inside.

"What do you think of that?" he asked with a little smile.

Meisner blinked and turned around. He was obviously surprised after he noticed how bright the lights from the inside were.

"We should check out the tent first. Maybe she's there," Christian suggested. "If we don't find her there we'll come up with a new plan."

Meisner shrugged. "As long as we will eventually get rid of Royals it's fine with me."

Christian nodded. "Then you should go back and take the guns."

Meisner glanced at him. "And do what, exactly?"

Christian sighed and turned around. "We need a distraction. Adalind knows me, but she doesn't know you. So I think it might be in everyone's best interest that you take the distraction part while I keep looking for Adalind."

Meisner thought about that and shrugged. "Give me the keys. I've an idea how to distract them."

Christian gritted his teeth a little but gave the keys of the Mercedes to his partner. "Be careful! These people can be very dangerous! And don't forget, they are Wesen!"

The flickering light from the bonfire illuminated Meisner's face. He didn't seem too impressed. "I can deal with that." He shrugged and went off, making the same loud noises as before.

Christian told himself once more that he really needed to talk to Sean about their newest ally. Meisner might be motivated, true, but he also was not exactly what Christian needed as handyman sometimes. He really wished he could trust the guy better but that was not easy to do.

Finally, after Meisner vanished into the darkness of the woods, Christian turned around again, looking at the tent and hoping to find a lead.

Adalind was supposed to be here. If she wasn't he was out of options, and the baby most likely lost. He also had to find out who was working with with the gypsies. Taking Adalind back would probably help a little.

Christian was very careful, nearly crawling through the bushes and small trees forming the border between clearing and woods. A huge fern was the best hideout he could find that drew him nearer to the tent.

Still there were several shadows moving, one he could see was obviously female, two others male. A fourth shadow he couldn't really make out, this figure could belong to both. And as it was sitting on something so he couldn't make out the height.

Christian waited, listening carefully into the early night.

What if Meisner simply took the car and drove off? What if Christian was abandoned here with hopefully Adalind and who know how many gypsies?

He looked back into the dark woods but couldn't make out anything. The bad possibilities continued to whisper in his inner ear, making him nervous.

He had to trust Meisner this time. No matter how he thought about the man and whether if he wanted to continue the partnership later, he had to trust him now.

Just when Christian wanted to return into the woods, to seek for Meisner and hope to get a better start next time, a huge detonation made the ground beneath his feet tremble. Christian stared down, confused, and in the next moment a second detonation seemed bigger.

What the hell was going on? He'd asked Meisner for a little distraction and got something that felt like a Third World War was about to break loose.

Screams and shouts came from the bonfire. Christian could see people running. But, as far as he could tell - and the majority of his sight was blocked by the tent - there was no fire, and all the trailers seemed to be okay.

What was going on here?

A third detonation shocked birds and other animals nearby into motion. Christian could hear wings, little feet and hoofes and animal shrieks all around.

Whatever this was, it was helpful!

Christian noticed two men coming from the tend and marching to the bonfire. A moment later a third person appeared at the entrance to the tent: Stefania, queen of the Schwarzwald-Romas and also a wicked and maleficent Hexenbiest, was leaving the tent.

Christian waited for the fourth shadow he'd seen but there was no more else emerging from the tent.

What now?

Christian looked over his shoulder, thinking of what he might be able to do.

He'd never been a hero, and he was sure this wouldn't be the first time.

A smaller explosion on the other side of the camp let the gypsies away from him.

Christian didn't hesitate any longer. Ducking down he left the huge fern behind and ran to the back of the tent, not exactly knowing what to do next.

Screams and gunfire were now audible from the other side of the camp. So, the fight was commencing.

This could end in a war within the Renard family, Christian realized again. The child was precious, not only as good. The Royal house of Renard was slowly descending into extinction. The last child born into the family with the powers of the Royals was the cousin Sean had killed two years ago. There were no children, and half of the princes weren't married or didn't even have a girlfriend. The three princesses were all sterile. If Adalind's baby carried the Royal power and turn out as fertile one day it could save the whole family. And every prince and princess would kill to get their hands on this baby, not to mention those of the other six Royal families and the Dragon's Tongue in Asia.

Christian scanned the tent but didn't find any entry on this side. He looked around the corner to see one of the two men from before now not far away from the entrance, obviously watching over whoever was inside.

Damn!

Christian searched for his pocket knife and turned to the rear of the tent. It took him a little time and patience before the point sunk into the cloth. Christian reminded himself that, if they made it out of here alive and well, he really had to sharpen the knife in the not so far future. It took him what felt like ages to cut the material and make himself a small entrance. He only could hope that, if Adalind was really inside, she wouldn't panick seeing the knife slicing a hole into the tent.

Christian ripped the cloth apart and squeezed his head and chest into the tent, carefully watching his surroundings.

He was right about the sattelite dish outside. There were two computers running and on a huge flatscreen he saw some movement. A movie or TV-show? Could be both, and the volume was down.

The ground was covered with thick carpets, and there was an ottoman standing near an opening to the entry of the tent. And on this ottoman sat ...

"Adalind!" Christian sighed in relief and squeezed himself completely into the tent. Stumbling the first steps he smiled at the blond young woman.

Adalind looked back, but seemed somehow ... not completely present. Her eyes were glassy, her face showed not a glimpse of emotion.

"What did they do to you?" Christian asked, looking around.

On the other site of the entrance stood a cabinet with different flasks and bottles and jars. Christian tiptoed to it, glaring at the entrance before scanning through the collection, not completely sure what he had to look for.

The days when Sean's mother taught him and her son some of her Hexenbiest recipes were long gone but he remembered vaguely that he'd seen someone in a state like Adalind was in before. So, if there was a treatment, it had to be here!

He hoped to get lucky, and read the tiny labels.

Outside there was still shooting and screaming and yelling. Whatever Meisner did, he was doing his job pretty well so far. But the sensitive moment would come when they had to leave the gypsies alone. Christian wasn't so sure the gypsies would let them go.

"_Maedesuess_" he read on a label and a little light turned on on it. This should fix the problem.

Christian marched back to Adalind, who still sat motionless on the ottoman, staring into thin air.

Wait a minute. Wasn't this a toxic plant?

Christian looked back to the cabinet. Then he turned to one of the computers. To the table screen and keyboard stationed on top. To the tiny flask he saw there. And to the screen where an email was open.

He hesitated again, listening to what was going on outside.

Meisner's distraction was still working, he didn't hear or see anybody. The guy guarding the tent still stood there, waiting and not knowing that there was an intruder behind his back.

Christian hastened over to the computer and looked at the screen, trying to remember everything and to put notes down on a sheet of paper.

"Glad to hear about the success of our first agreement. I will be there as soon as I can, but this could take a while as there are some interesting developments over here in Portland. As I really want this rare treasure you offered me I will give you US 10,000 $ more if you will inform my caretaker to do what I pay him for.

May there be other occasions for a future cooperation."

Portland?

Christian frowned, reading the mail again without any clue what it was about. But he had a bad feeling in his guts reading it.

Finally he took the flask and turned around, sneaking back to Adalind, who still was sitting on the ottoman without reacting to anything around her.

He looked at the label on the flask and startled a bit.

"_Flugsalbe_."

Now he had it!

Flying potion, _Flugsalbe_, separated the mind from the body. The receiver turned into a mindless marionette while the brain was huper-stimulated.

That meant he needed something to put Adalind's mind back into the here and now. And he didn't know if he could manage to rise to this challenge at all. Outside the tent was an armed man watching, there were he-didn't-know-how-many other men out there, ready to fight to the very end.

He could leave, now, while Meisner still was performing his distraction. But he would run short of ammunition not too far in the near future. And that was the moment the gypsies were waiting for.

Or he could stay, not completely sure why, and search for the antidote and take Adalind with him after he cured her from the nasty _Flugsalbe_.

Or ... he could try to drag her out of there.

Christian stored the flask in his pocket and took Adalind's arm. "Come on!" he hissed to her.

Adalind didn't move at all. Dragging her was like trying to make a dead weight move. How could such a small person could turn out to be this heavy?

Christian tried again, pulling a little harder this time. "Adalind, we have to go!" he said, determinded. But still she wasn't moving at all.

When he was about to start a third time, a voice asked him: "And what do you think you are doing here?"

Christian froze for a moment, eyes wide. Then he turned his head and stared at the bulky gypsy at the entrance to the tent.

Second mistake in a row, he told himself. And this time he couldn't blame someone else. He'd let his guard down trying to get Adalind out of there.

The gypsy came closer, and Christian straightened slowly, letting Adalind's arm go and trying to get the gun in the backside of his jeans.

Next moment the gypsy was above him, throwing his right fist into Christian's stomach and trying to get hold on his other hand with the gun. The huge fist closed around his wrist and Christian winced, breathless, before his fingers opened and the gun dropped. That hurt!

And the gypsy wasn't done with him. This time the fist made contact with Christian's face. He reeled around, stars dancing before his eyes, before another blow slammed into his back so hard, he thought his kidney might have burst.

Stumbling, he tried to regain balance but he already felt dizziness robbing him of his coordination. His knees were full of pudding, the blood rushing in his ears and leaving a pulse at the point of impact at his jaw.

The gypsy came closer again, his arm in the air, ready to smash Christian's bones into pieces. And then ... a single shot, blustering and deafening loud, and then there was a tiny little wound in the forehead of the giant gypsy. The man fell, somehow reminding Christian of a chopped timber tree and there was a silly feeling that he had to be prepared for the impact, as it would shake the earth.

It didn't. The man collapsed, blood and brain seeping from the little wound in his forehead. And in front of the ottoman, the smoking gun still in her hands, stood Adalind, and stared at him with an ashen face, shocked about what she just did.

She shot the man! Shot him to death! A loud shot!

Christian was aware that suddenly there were only single shots from outside anymore, and he got the bad feeling that more gypsies were on their way here after they'd heard the shot in the tent.

Still feeling a little shaky in the knees he crossed the body on the floor, carefully took the gun from Adalind's shaking fingers and, after a second of hesitation, he embraced her like a friend.

"Thank you for saving my life," he whispered in her ear, setting her free again but taking her hand. "And now we have to go. Quickly!"

He turned to run to the cut where he came in before, but realized that Adalind had yet to move.

Dear God! Was she still ... ?

"I killed him," Adalind whispered.

"You shot him," Christian corrected.

"But ... he's dead!"

Being on _Flugsalbe_ didn't was exactly the right method to become a genius ...

"Otherwise I would be dead by now. I like it this way better," Christian said with a smile.

He could hear the footsteps now. And there were many!

"I've never taken a life without using my powers," Adalind told him.

Powers? What powers?

Christian got the impression again that he was missing part of the story. But right now there was no time to catch up.

"Can we please move this conversation to a later time?" he asked. "I don't want to rush but I fear there are others coming for us."

Adalind stared again at him, eyes wide. "But I -"

"You've never shot someone to death before, I got it. But this is not the right place to discuss this more deeply. Unless you want to stay here," Christian told her.

"But ... the contract!" Adalind cried.

The mysterious contract ...

Christian looked around. "Do you have an idea where it could be?"

Adalind shook her head.

"Then we will find another way to keep you out of it. Now, please!" Christian pulled a little and finally Adalind took the first step to follow him.

Finally!

Still she was too slow for his taste right now but she let him drag her with him, which was a huge step in the right direction for him.

Christian climbed out of the tent, Adalind on his heels. He took her by her arm again and led her as quickly as possible to the nearby bushes and small trees. Once inside the woods the gypsies wouldn't be able to find them anymore. And the moment they arrived at the car ...

Christian froze once more, staring into the darkness.

Meisner still had the keys to the Mercedes!

Christian turned around, watching half a dozen gypsies entering the tent.

They were running out of time now. They needed to leave! ASAP!

Christian took Adalind's hand and rushed forward as fast as he could with limited vision. And he sent prayers and requests to Meisner to stop his fake attack and join them.

A scream behind him. He couldn't understand what the man screamed but he knew it was about the body in the tent and the absense of Adalind.

"We have to keep moving," Christian whispered in her ear and went further.

More single shots came from the other side of the camp.

How long it would take Meisner to realize that he wasn't the primary target anymore. Hopefully fast enough before the gypsies put one and one together and tried to capture him and interrogate him.

Christian bit his lips.

What now? He didn't have a car because Meisner had the key. The Mercedes belonged to Eric. And Eric would definitely be clever enough to find out the truth the moment he learned about the shooting and the missing car.

"Where do we go?" Adalind asked.

Good question!

Christian stopped and listened before finally turning back to the camp.

He needed the key! If Eric found out ...

Another shot, a single one but much louder than the ones from Meisner. And a distant scream.

Christian's face went pale and he stopped for a second.

The sound of heavy steps coming from the camp. Many feet in heavy boots, not only one man.

Meisner was gone, in best case dead, in worst case ...

One last shot, from the distance, answered him.

Meisner was dead!


	6. Unexpected Visitors

**A/N:** And once more, I cannot praise her high enough for the stunning work she's doing, many, many thanks to_ MerlynPyndragon_ for her help as beta!

* * *

"Is this the tea my wife always gets? Are you really sure? I mean, you don't know how she's like if she doesn't get her tea." Bud Wurstner rolled his eyes, touching the black bag on the counter between them. "If this isn't the one, I don't know what to do. She's so nervous lately, you know? Trouble sleeping, having vivid dreams. All the stuff. Me and the kids, we are getting that like full time! Oblinger visited lately, and I tell you ..."

Monroe did his best to ignore the slide headache that suddenly kicked in on his right temple.

He liked Bud. The Eisbiber was a good guy, hard worker, fellow Timbers-fan and someone he could trust. Only his tendency to chatter was something that got on Monroe's nerves sometimes. And this time was such a time.

"I tell you, Oblinger wasn't all pleased." Bud shook his head, completely diverging from the topic they had before.

Monroe realized that he lost some time, that he hadn't gotten the complete story about Oblinger's visit at Bud's. But he could imagine what Oblinger had experienced.

"This is the tea Rosalee usually sells to your wife, Bud," Monroe answered, taking the full loop back. "I know that because I was in one room when Rosalee mixed it up as a special order for you wife, dude."

Bud looked up at him, silent for a moment. Then he took the bag and nodded. "Okay, well then ..." He turned, and Monroe felt bad.

"Oblinger, eh?" Monroe asked while he watched Bud walk up to the front door.

And it worked! The Eisbiber turned around again, making a huge gesture. "What I can tell ya? She's getting weirder and weirder every day!"

The door opened from the outside, but Bud was already on his way back to the counter again. "I tell ya! I've no idea what's going on with her. She was never that way before, and I've known her my entire life!"

A woman Monroe had never seen before entered the shop, closing the door before starting a tour.

Monroe looked down to Bud. "Rosalee knows about that?" he asked.

"I told her. And I think she was at my home one time," Bud answered. "Since then, I've been getting the tea."

So Rosalee mixed it especially for Bud? Maybe he should be jealous?

"It IS the tea Rosalee mixed," Monroe said again. "I'm sure of it."

Bud nodded, this time he looked a bit more content. "That's good to hear."

Monroe smiled.

"Hey, did you hear about the Timbers game next Sunday?" Bud changed the topic.

A Timbers game was always ... special, Monroe thought. But this news sounded weird. "They are on summer break," he said.

"They have some test games. The new coach wants it," Bud told him. "What about you? Are you coming?"

That was something, Monroe decided. Something he could look forward to. The question was, would he be able to go there?

"Maybe," he answered.

"You have to! I'll get us the tickets." Bud frowned. "By the way, what's up with Rosalee? Is she still recovering?"

Monroe smiled dryly. "She's good. On a little trip with Juliette, you know. Women's stuff, something about the wedding, I guess."

"So, Juliette will be the bridesmaid?" Bud guessed.

The unknown woman browsed through the shelves without paying too much attention to the chat the two men were having. But somehow Monroe got a bad feeling only by looking at her.

"Yeah, she will," he hesitantly nodded. "We just asked her and she said yes. Hopeful it won't be too stressful for her."

Bud nodded wisely. "Let's hope! That poor woman has been through enough!" He looked at his watch and then up again. "I have to go now. But don't forget: next Sunday, Timbers game! We're counting on you!"

Monroe was wondering if the Eisbibers really cared for him or if it was more about how he could look dangerous enough that no other fangroup would try to take their seats at the stadium.

Bud turned around and went to go, and bumped right into the stranger.

"Oh, excuse me, ma'am," he said, wogeing and blushing at once.

Monroe smirked a little.

The woman looked down at the little Eisbiber. "My fault," she said. And somehow Bud seemed to change without actually changing.

Monroe blinked. Bud was moving like a sleepwalker, his face barren of all expression.

Frowning, the Blutbad asked, "Everything okay?"

The woman looked at him, and smiled again. "Maybe," she said, dragging Bud aside so she could come up to the counter. "I'm looking for some herbs."

Bud stumbled more than walked to the door but left the shop before Monroe could go after him. Not that he could with a stranger inside the shop.

Maybe he should call Wu?

He dragged himself back to look at her and recalled her words. "Well, if you would like to give me the list I will get them for you," Monroe answered with another smile.

"Very well," she answered, taking a little sheet of paper where she wanted to leave her list on.

Her scent was strange, something Monroe had never smelled before. Sweet and herb at the same time, but with an underline that gave him some serious chills.

She gave him the sheet of paper back.

"Thank you," she said. "I have to go now. But ..."

"But?" Maybe he was a little weird himself today. But surely not the same way she was.

She smiled, a little like a sphinx.

Monroe did his best to smile back. The Blutbad inside him wanted to run, flee, leave as fast as possible and never come back. This woman was dangerous! Her scent told him, her smile told him, her gestures confirmed it. Serious danger, not a little next-door trouble. This scent said Death. And that was something, neither Monroe nor his second nature wanted have anything to do with.

"Give me a call, Blutbad," she smiled at him, turned and left the Spice Shop.

Monroe swallowed.

This wasn't good!

* * *

Nick still didn't know what to do. Christian had given him some details about the planned escape, but not enough to leave him alone. The little guy didn't show up last night, and now it was noon, the last try-on with the tailor for the suit he was supposed to wear tonight.

Said tailor did an amazing job over the past two days, and had nearly finished his work. There were only some last details to fix. But no needles everywhere anymore, and the trousers, vest and jacket looked amazingly good, Nick had to admit. He never had a custom-made suit before, and now he was surprised that he actually felt good wearing it.

"Really, you will steal the show from the premiere, you know that?" Eric, lounging on a divan, said and nodded, pleased.

Nick turned to one side, looking at his profile, then the other side. But he couldn't find anything to argue about besides that he still wore his boots and needed a shave.

After a knock the door opened and Nick froze, relieved but shocked at the same time, when he saw Christian entering. But how he looked!

A black eye and a huge bruise on his jaw, left arm in a Glisson's sling and some scratch marks on his hands and neck.

Eric suddenly stood up, astonished. "And what happened to you?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

Nick remembered to breathe and turned around himself, giving Christian a sympathetic glance.

"I'm sorry, your highness," Christian said and lowered his head, "but I fear I was robbed the other night."

"Robbed?" Eric echoed.

The tailor went off into the back room. Nick saw him closing the door and frowned.

Christian nodded but moaned a little afterwards. Holding his temple with the palm of his hand he tried a smile. "I fear the Mercedes was stolen from me while I was out on some errands the other night."

A stolen car?

Nick looked at Christian, still frowning. If his ability to read other people still worked, then he'd just seen the small man lying.

Eric didn't seem to notice. "The Mercedes? You mean your staff car? Who took it?"

Christian shook his head carefully. "I don't know. Never met the man before. After I came from the post office he came out of a dark alley and beat me down, took my keys and drove off," he explained.

Again the little voice inside him screamed a loud "Liar!" but Nick ignored it. "Have you been to the police?" he asked instead.

Eric turned around. "Very good, my dear, very good." Looking at Christian he asked: "Have you?"

Again a careful nod. "I reported the car stolen, yes. After I came from the hospital."

"So I assume that's the reason why you were missing yesterday?" Eric supposed.

"I'm sorry, your highness. I called from the hospital but ..."

"It's okay. I was only wondering," Eric interrupted the explanation. "Actually, you look like crap, my dear. But it's the right spirit that you came to me as quickly as you could."

Christian pulled a face but the prince didn't seem to see it.

Nick smirked.

So, whatever Christian had done to look the way he did now, it seemed important enough not to tell Eric. Perhaps it had something to do with the plan? Well, if he was supposed to fight his way to wherever he had to go, he would. He was ready and he wanted nothing more than to leave this place.

"Could you describe your attacker?" Eric wanted to know. "Could make the things easier for the police."

"Unshaved, bulky, blond hair." Christian shrugged and grimaced, holding his injured shoulder.

Pretty average, Nick thought. "Did you get a good look at him? Maybe the police could send you a scratch artist."

Christian looked at him as if he was seeing him for the very first time. "They already did, yes. And who are you?"

Nick remembered that they never met before in public and cleared his throat.

Eric seemed also to realize that there were two obviously strangers talking to each other. "Oh, you remember, we talked about him. This is my new security guard. Meet my private secretary, Nick."

Christian nodded. "Yes, I remember. So you are early. I just gave away the order for the renovation," he said. "Is your - was it your wife? - also here? She could make some suggestions about the colors and the furniture, I think."

Nick stepped back a little, mouth open but unable to answer.

He knew Christian wanted to warn him, but this topic in this environment still made him sick.

"She isn't. She has some last things to wrap up in the US," Eric explained. "But she will be here soon. Help for her is on its way. I only wanted Nick as fast as possible. He will guard me tonight for the first time to the opera."

Christian lifted his eyebrows. "Well, I hope you will enjoy the show then," he said with a little smile and came nearer. "I'm glad to meet you, Nick." Reaching his hand Christian glared at Nick. And Nick took the hand.

"Be ready!"

Nick nodded a little, his heart once more pounding so loud it was a miracle that Eric didn't hear it.

"I fear I distracted you, your highness. The meeting starts in a few minutes and I have some papers to sign for you," Christian said then, turning around. He nodded at Nick. "I'm sure we will work together well, Nick. Enjoy the opera tonight."

"He will, oh, he will," Eric said. With a sigh he went to the door. "Don't keep my father and the minister waiting. Nick, I leave you in good hands. My personal coiffeur will take care of you. And there are some shoes in the back room. Try to choose a pair which compliments your outfit. We will meet at the car tonight."

Christian gave him a little smile again before he followed the Royal, limping.

What the hell had happened?

* * *

Hank Griffin was lying on the bed in his cell at the second precinct, staring into thin air.

The last two months of his life were replaying over and over again he tried to figure out how he missed that his big love, the one he wanted to propose to, was a Wesen. Not to mention that she was not only Wesen, but also a relative to the burglar who kept Portland unsettled over the last six weeks. Until he and Renard entered the motel room and ...

There was another problem. Hank couldn't recall what exactly happened after he opened the door to the bathroom and the officers from the second precinct entered said bathroom with him sitting on the toilette seat and Constance's brother Remy dead in the bathtub.

Hank was sure his memory loss had something to do with Constance being Wesen. Maybe he really snapped for a second, maybe he really was Remy's killer. He thought he remembered a melee, but then his memory blurred out again until he found himself sitting on that damned toilette seat.

The gun – he was told it was his – was still in his hands. He'd shot it. But he also remembered the gun felt unfamiliar, not like his usual Glock. He asked several times to see the gun but his interrogator turned his request down. And they also forgot about him having the right to an attorney.

Hank still stared into the air when footsteps came up to his cell.

Where had he been wrong? What did he miss?

He didn't know. He only knew there was something going on, something was wrong, and he couldn't help but blame Constance. Meaning, Nick was dead because of a Wesen, now he was in custody because he'd killed another one.

"Griffin, you've a visitor," a voice told him.

Blinking Hank sat up, watching that small sergeant with the snarky humour, who always reminded him of Wu, opening the door for another man in uniform.

Another interrogation? Or did they finally get him an attorney? Was he being charged now?

The hallway to the door was pretty dark so Hank couldn't make out who was coming for him now. He was perplexed to finally see Wu, who was grinning at him.

"Sort of nice to meet you," the sergeant greeted him. "Now you cannot run from me. Maybe I should have tried this earlier, huh?"

Hank stared at the sergeant and thought of ignoring Wu completely. Until he realized that ignoring Wu wouldn't work at all.

"What do you want? Why you are here?" he asked instead.

Wu shrugged and leaned against the bars. "The captain sent me. He wanted to come himself but ... it's sort of complicated right now, you know. And don't give me that look! Renard is worried and he believes there's been some foul play."

"Renard is one of _them_, Wu! He would tell you anything to make you work for him!" Hank snapped.

Wu lifted his eyebrows. "One of them? One of whom?" he asked, only to shake his head a moment later. "Skip that! I'm not here to discuss your newly developed hate. I'm here because we all want to help you!"

"Who all? Monroe and the others? I'll give you some advice, Wu. Stay away from them, and take Juliette somewhere else before they can kill you two off like they killed Nick!"

Wu didn't blinked. "Nick's very much alive," he said.

"Nick is dead! He died nearly three months ago at the container yard. If he wasn't dead back then, he's now!" Hank stared angrily at the sergeant.

"Well, then I just got a call from heaven ... or hell? Who knows? Maybe cellphones are able to receive calls from the beyond these days ..."

"What?" Hank was confused. Finally he stood up and came over to the bars. "What are you talking about, man?"  
Wu looked up at him, grinning. "Nick called last week. Well, not directly Nick, it was someone else who did the actual call, but he gave the phone to Nick. We all talked to him, Hank. He is pretty much alive, as hostage in Europe. And he needs all the help we can give him."

Nick, alive?

Hank stared down into Wu's eyes, trying to read a lie on the face of his coworker. But there was only excitement, and sorrows for him.

"You must be kidding!"

Nick had to be dead! They never found even a hair of him. Never! And the Wesen, all the stuff he heard after he came to the precinct the next day. Wu's on the edge, most likely losing his mind forever. And poor Juliette, all calm and tears and worried. They had never found anything from Nick after they found his cellphone, badge and gun.

"That's impossible!" Hank hissed, suddenly having trouble breathing.

"Nope, I talked to him. It was our Nick," Wu said. "And that's why I came here today. We need you back, Hank. So much happened since you got accused. And Nick will hopefully be free soon, then we all need you with us. We want to help you, but you have to help us too."

Nick alive ...

Hank stared again into thin air.

That changed a lot for him. Nick alive would mean he wasn't responsible, he hadn't failed his duty to be there for his partner. It would mean ... maybe Constance hadn't tricked him into this relationship.

"They refuse to send an attorney to me," Hank said. "I haven't spoken to anyone."

"I know." Wu smirked. "It's a little complicated. The captain's cousin is running the second precinct now, and he's also probably the one interrogating you. He never had a badge or even experience in police work. He came here, changing the rules and doing what he thinks is right. We need to change that."

Hank frowned. "Renard's cousin is the captain here?" he echoed.

Wu nodded. "Believe me, I've talked to a few fellas here, no one is really thrilled to have him. But the commissioner still thinks it's a good idea. We have to make him face the reality."

"How did this cousin end up as head of a precinct?" Hank asked.

"Keeping Portland weird. This is one of the mysteries we will find out later. The captain thinks it's probably a spell," Wu explained. "Are you in?"

Nick alive, and he having issues with his memory. Maybe he was Remy's killer, maybe not. But he wouldn't find out as long as he was in custody.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked.

Wu grinned. "That's my Hank!"

* * *

Eric barely looked up when the door to his office opened and Christian entered the room. Luckily the half-Maushertz was still at his desk when Eric had called him to come in.

Usually, he wanted to do everything according to his new property himself, but all this paperworks the human government wanted to get filled out was boring and unnerving in his eyes. In old times all of this wouldn't have been necessary, he knew. Only hundred years ago he could have claimed Nick as his own without getting any requests or orders to fill out.

Christian remained by the door, still a painful picture with all the bruises and his arm in a sling, but so far he had acted surprisingly tough for a Maushertz, even with his other half being a Royal.

"You called, your highness?" Christian asked after Eric kept silent, still rummaging through all the paperworks.

Frustrated, the Royal finally gave up. Leaning forward on his hands, he looked up and nodded. "I'm glad you're still around. I suppose you wanted to leave early and go to bed," he said, surprisingly sympathetic for his own taste.

Christian shrugged and winced immediately. Rubbing his injured shoulder he came a little closer. "I was about to call it a night, yes. But if you need me ..."

Eric sighed and started tapping all the official applications he required signing. "Indeed I need your help. Did you know what nonsense these people at the human government want to know for a simple legal alien assignment?"

One look in Christian's face told him he did, and Eric remembered the countless other times he had to deal with foreign affairs and Christian had to manage the paperwork.

He should probably give him a raise, Eric thought. A raise and a warning. He was well aware of Christian having contact with Sean in Portland. Not that often, to be true. One of his cousin Viktor's agents had reported the last time both men met and that was months ago. But one time the suspect, always the suspect.

"I will do that for you, your highness. Whatever you need." Christian bowed a little.

Eric looked at him again.

He trusted Christian, and he protected him back then after Viktor stated he had been in Portland instead of Venice for the weekend. Eric remembered Sean and Christian were classmates in elementary school. And he thought, after the fact that both men shared sort of the same path as being half Royals, they might be closer as it would be good for Christian. However, Eric had just gotten a call from the police. The Mercedes was found near an abandoned camp of the Schwarzwald-Roma. And they found a body, belonging to a Martin Meisner, whose appearance, as far as his passport could tell, looked astonishingly like the description of the attacker Christian had mentioned as the thief of the Mercedes.

Meisner was a well known member of the resistance, who had only shortly joined their forces and stumbled during his short career as a rebel and outlaw from one wrong turn to the next. That Meisner was the thief was clear to Eric. And, as dumb as Meisner might have been during his short life, no one would attack their own agents. So he had the proof that Christian wasn't a traitor.

"Very well," Eric stepped back from the desk and headed to the safe to get some money for the evening. "Too bad you are not interested in the opera," he said, opening the heavy door after typing the code to unbolt it. "I would have bought you a card for tonight's premiere. La Traviata is a good one for starters."

He didn't see Christian turning his head to him after he opened the safe, he didn't notice how Christian's eyes widened after he saw the little wooden box inside. He also didn't see how the face of the Half-Maushertz went ashen.

Eric was about to take a money bundle when the door opened again and the butler came in. "There's a call at the living quarters of your highness," he said.

Eric frowned. "Excuse me?" He turned around, forgetting about the money.

"What I said. A call on the private line, your highness." The servant bowed.

Eric frowned. "Who?" he asked.

It should be known that tonight was the premiere. No one in their right mind would distract him with a call.

"Your cousin, sir," the servant told him.

Christian looked quite amused but didn't move a muscle.

"Which one? I have more than a dozen." And the most of them weren't a big loss if something were to happen to them ...

"Prince Nicolaus is calling from St. Petersburg, your highness. What would you have me do?"

Eric startled.

Wait a minute. Didn't he just send Nicolaus' brother Vlad to St. Petersburg to observe the rumour of an imprisoned Grimm there?

"Can't is wait?" Eric asked.

For his father, he would likely leave or miss the opera. For Nicolaus? Most unlikely!

"The prince said no. He wanted to talk to you, and he is very determined," the servant told him.

Eric exchanged a look with Christian before he started rolling eyes. "Oh, for Heaven's sake!" He winked with two fingers and marched to the door. "You'll be alright in here? Won't take too long," he told Christian.

"I'm fine. Thanks, your highness," Christian answered.

Well then ...

"Move on!" Eric ordered the servant and followed.

His private and his business lines were different, so he had to go upstairs for private calls. It was only because of the size of this castle that it was impossible to draw both lines together. Not that he hadn't tried before.

Following the servant, heading upstairs a little later and finally entering his personal rooms in one of the towers, he realized once more how big this castle was. And that he had to work on this little problem with the telephone. It was nonsense what he did here. It would have been so much easier if Nicolaus had called him on his business line or his cellphone.

Eric felt anger swelling inside him. Nicolaus better have something important to tell, otherwise it may be his last call entirely.

In his private rooms he took the first phone he could lay his hands on and said, a little breathless: "I hope this worth it. I am about to leave."

"Oh, it is, my dear cousin," told him the rusty voice of his cousin with a heavy Russian accent. "I'm calling to warn you. You may be crown prince, but you are not immortal. Next time you send an assassin to kill me, find a better one!"

Eric frowned, recalling what he knew about the situation in St. Petersburg.

Nicolaus had claimed against his brother Vlad that he was the owner of a Grimm. Vlad had nothing better to do than to tell Eric. Eric sent Vlad to Nicolaus' castle to find proof and, if there really was a Grimm, also find out where this Grimm was coming from and who it belonged to. He never sent an assassin to St. Petersburg! That was ridiculous!

"Excuse me?" he asked. "What assassin?"

"Didn't you sent Vlad here?" Nicolaus asked, voice raised.

Yes, he did. He did more, he gave Vlad permission to use his private jet.

"Vlad came to me, telling me you could have something that definitely did not belong to you. I sent him your way to prove what you claimed. I never sent an assassin! If I wanted you dead, there would be much easier, and cheaper ways, to get rid of you," Eric finally said.

"I don't believe you!" Nicolaus screamed.

Eric didn't react.

"You sent my brother here to spy on me!" Nicolaus said.

"That is close enough to the truth, yes," Eric answered.

"And now you are telling me you never gave the order to assassinate me?" Nicolaus continued.

Eric rolled his eyes.

Why oh why was he, besides Sean, the only member of this family with a working brain and enough functioning cells in this brain? How does one misunderstand the order: "Find me evidence!"?

"I didn't," Eric said. "Ask Vlad, he will tell you the truth, especially with me on the line. I suppose he's somewhere near you."

Okay, Vlad was as dumb as bread and had the intelligence of an amoeba but he never received any killing order, and so he should recall it himself. Whatever he was up to had nothing to do with Eric.

"I fear that's not possible," spitted Nicolaus' voice, full of triumph and hate. "I am standing right above my brother, Cousin Eric. Right above him ..."

"Well, then I suggest you ask him," Eric said, still in the dark about what was wrong in the picture. "What the hell you are talking about here?"

"So it was Vlad's idea to kill me? To whom you will sell that as the truth?"

"It IS the truth!" Eric took some deep breaths. And suddenly the truth clicked in. "You didn't kill your own brother, did you? What the hell you were thinking?"

"Of course I killed him! He was about to kill me!" growled Nicolaus.

Eric closed his eyes when a sharp pain slid through his temple.

Yes, Vlad and Nicolaus wasn't exactly close. He thought this was the main reason why Vlad came to him after Nicolaus taunted him. But he had never expected they would go so far. In fact, he had never spent a second thought about their feelings for each other.

"Now what?" Again there was triumph in Nicolaus' voice. "Will you still lie to me? You sent my brother here to kill me!"

Eric massaged the still pounding temple with two fingers, eyes closed. "Idiots!" he finally said. "Both of you!"

And for a second there was refreshing silence on the line.

"What?" Nicolaus yelled then. "I'm an idiot? Because I got rid of the killer you sent for me? Very classy, Eric!"

"I NEVER sent your brother to kill you. I sent him because you lied to him in the first place. You told him you held the Portland Grimm, and that's a lie." Eric's voice sounded very controlled now.

Some days he envied his father for being no longer in the mental state to control the family. As much as Eric wanted the power, he really was tired of some parts of his own blood. To play with Sean was amusing, especially because Sean wasn't in the position to harm him. But Sean was intelligent. True, he killed their cousin two years ago – a shame – but Eric was also a little thankful for this as said cousin tried his very best to claim some power. But Vlad and Nicolaus? That was another story.

"I taunted Vlad, that's all." Suddenly the voice sounded soft. "I didn't expect him to run straight to you, telling you."

"Well, he did. And I didn't want to risk any police on any of our properties. So I gave Vlad permission to use my private jet and check out your castle for a Grimm. I knew you don't have the Portland Grimm, but you could have taken another one. And I didn't want trouble. You hear me?"

Still Nicolaus was very calm. Probably he started to realize what he had done.

"How do you know?" Nicolaus finally asked.

That took him a long time!

"Because I have the Portland Grimm. He just started to work for me." Eric inhaled deeply. "And you get better rid of the body before police show up at your place. And, just in case you really have abducted another Grimm, make sure he's not owned by anybody causing trouble to the family. If you don't, what I suggest is that you'd better think about what you just did. I won't forget this, cousin Nicolaus, I won't! And now excuse me, the opara will be starting soon."

Eric ended the call. His hands were shaking and for a moment he wanted to smash the phone into the next wall.

Idiots! Altogether idiots! Nicolaus for killing his brother, and Vlad that he wasn't prepared for this.

Eric needed a moment before he finally put the phone back on its station and left his private rooms again to march back to his office.

Why on earth he was cursed with this family? Why did he have to think for all of them?

When he returned to his office he found Christian sitting at his desk, head bowed above the paperwork for legalizing the Grimm. And, Eric realized just now, his safe was still open, but nothing seemed changed. The money, the documents, the little wooden box, all was still in there, in the same spots he left them.

Eric smiled at his secretary. "I know why I can trust you, you know? You may only be a bastard but you are loyal."

He didn't see the drop of sweat running down Christian's face, and he ignored the little shaking of the hands of his secretary ...


End file.
